


Made of Stars

by sponsormusings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Prompts in Panem, aladdin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sponsormusings/pseuds/sponsormusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were made from every star that had ever been wished on, assigned to those deemed worthy of a gift.  They were often described as figments of imagination, a story to tell children to make them believe in happy endings. But sometimes, the fantastical is as real as the sun that sets and rises...</p>
<p>An Everlark tale, inspired by Disney’s ‘Aladdin’.</p>
<p>A submission for Prompts in Panem, March 2014.  Day 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_His fingers closed over the elegantly curved doorknob, cold and smooth against his skin; when it turned easily in his hand, he breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he didn't believe his brother, exactly, but from the rust that had almost obscured the brass lock from his eyes and the cobwebs that had danced through his hair as he'd crept through the dark, it was obvious that it had been a long time since someone had ventured down the tunnel. And he’d wondered if he’d come this far for nothing._

_But the middle Mellark brother - dictated at birth to be a troublemaker, deemed by the Scrolls to be an envoy instead of King - had proven his words true this time. Pushing open the door with only a slight creak to mar the quiet night, Peeta stepped out into the cool evening air. Freedom a balm on his tongue, the moonlight a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, he wished for a moment that the brothers’ roles were reversed._

_But wishes were never granted, and his role in Panem had been determined a long time ago._

_Wrapping the long black coat he wore tighter around him, and yanking the black knit cap down over his blond waves, he crept into the shadows and melted into the dark. Tonight, he wasn't Peeta Mellark. Tonight, he didn't even have a name._

********

By all accounts, the evening was still young. People danced and ate and drank in the streets, a whirlwind of colour and action that he never saw in the mansion. It was normally all pomp and circumstance and obligations there, dished out genially by his father, or more threateningly by his mother. His brothers - so rarely at home with the roles they had been pre-destined to fill - were the ones travelling to the ends of the country, and protecting the borders from those outside. His own days were spent studying, and learning, and preparing for the role he had been born for.

But he yearned for the excitement that his brothers had experienced, yearned for a life outside the mansion.

A burst of laughter from an alleyway startled him, and he turned, blue eyes wide and bright in the streetlights. A curvy blonde caught his eye as she sashayed past, turning slightly on her heel to wink lasciviously at him. He swallowed heavily, but allowed his lips to turn up in a small smile in return. She giggled, then continued on her way - he couldn’t help but watch her hips sway as she walked. No one in the mansion walked like that. His older brother’s wife didn’t walk like that, but then again he’d never really looked at her that way.

Tucking his hands in his pockets, Peeta wished he’d had the foresight to bring some coin with him, the smells from the restaurants tantalising, the bright lights of stores and entertainment venues beckoning him in. He’d never been in a District this late at night and was amazed at how alive it felt. He’d only been out at night in the Capitol itself a half dozen times and even then it had been short, accompanied by 3 security officers and his father, with very little time to explore of his own will.

But tonight, even if he couldn’t buy anything, eat anything or enter into any of the entertainment venues, it didn’t matter. He was free - even if for just a short while - and he would enjoy it as much as he could. The feeling of anticipation and excitement coursing through his veins was enough for him.

********

Her stomach grumbled, but that was nothing new. Katniss Everdeen couldn't remember the last time it hadn't ached with emptiness, the last day she hadn't felt at least a little hungry. Most days they were able to get by, making the most of the wild animals that crept into their district, harvesting the edible plants that grew in the small meadow that ran along part of one of their borders. With little rain, though, and an entire district on the edge of starvation, the animals had already been eaten or had disappeared into neighbouring districts, and the meagre meadow picked clean.

The sight of her sister's collarbone almost protruding right through her pale flesh that morning had spurred her into action. She knew it was dangerous, but it was either this, or death. And she would rather risk it than leave any of them to that eventuality if it could be prevented.

Wrapping her worn, threadbare coat around her, she slid close to the brick wall, thankful the moon was hidden for the moment behind thick, dark, clouds. She'd traveled as far north in Twelve as she was willing to go before crossing the boundary, and now was less than 500 meters into District One; but she could already smell, see, practically _feel_ the difference. The air was cleaner, and the grass she'd crossed had been fresh, and full of dandelions. She could smell the smoke that meant fires burning in hearths, and the fragrant aroma of meat simmering in rich sauces. This was the reason she’d chosen to sneak through to One rather than Eleven - the bounty at her fingertips was much more plentiful than the fields of Eleven which - she’d heard - were as dry and fruitless as their own land. It was a far more beneficial choice to slip through the fence into One - so long as she didn't get caught.

She’d never ventured this far into a neighbouring district before.

Peering around a corner before stepping out, she was pleased to see a small bakery across the street, its windows shuttered and the lights off. If she could sneak out behind the back, there could very well be ruined or out of date loaves of bread dumped in the trash cans - and bread was easily concealable in the pockets of her pants and jacket.

Her tread was light, her feet barely touching the ground as she darted across the cobbled walkway. She ignored a burst of laughter from streets away, and breathed a sigh of relief as she she made it to the alley that lined the side of the bakery without being seen. The trash cans were exactly where she expected them to be - the same place that they were kept beside the aging bakery in her own district - and she mentally crossed her fingers as she gently lifted the lid. The first smile to cross her lips in days appeared as she saw the two abandoned loaves resting on the top, a little burned, but otherwise completely edible. She and mother and Prim could feast on this for days if they rationed it right.

Quickly stuffing one into the inside of her jacket, she held the other tightly in her hand - it was far too big to fit in the other pocket, but she’d risk it. A full belly for all three of them made it worth it. She began to replace the lid when what sounded like a gunshot echoed through the streets; her head flew up, and the lid slipped from her fingers with a clash and a clatter to the ground.

The lights in the bakery flicked on instantaneously.

With a curse, she shot out of the alley, getting caught up in a group of people throwing firecrackers onto the ground, dancing around the coloured snaps and sparks. She pushed her way through, but still heard the shouts, the accusations of “ _Seam rat!_ ” and “ _Thief!_ ”. But she ignored them, and kept running through the streets, around the people oblivious to her plight, with the pounding of feet on the pavement behind her. _They were gaining, and gaining and gaining_ -

With a thud, she slammed into a strong chest, firm arms clasping at her shoulders. She tried to shake them off, her heart pounding in terror, but all she succeeded in doing was dropping the bread to the ground at her feet. _Shit._

“Let me go,” she hissed, staring up into a face that was shrouded by the dark of night except for the bright blue eyes that stared back at her. She half twisted in his arms, to see two men still forcing their way through the crowd, which had suddenly multiplied with the pulsing sounds of music from a trio of men with instruments. “Let me _go_!”

He shook his head, before sliding a hand down her arm and interlacing his fingers with hers, drawing her back into the crowd. They slipped and pivoted around people, and though everything inside her screamed to get away, to shake off this guy who had a firm and warm grip on her hand, she found she couldn’t. She only hoped she could trust him, that he was actually helping her, and not leading her into a trap.

Whirling them around a corner, her breath caught in her throat as she was pressed up against a wall; without missing a beat, he cupped his hands around her cheeks and kissed her. Kissed her as though his life depended on it, kissed her as though it was the last kiss he would ever have.

His lips were warm and soft on hers, his breath gentle against her cheek. His thumbs stroked along her cheekbone, down to her jaw, to the small pressure point below her ear. Her hands reached involuntarily for the back of his neck, and the tufts of golden curls that poked out under the wool cap; soon she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could barely stand.

_She vaguely thought that maybe making out at the slag heap had some merit._

She pressed herself closer to him, the warmth of his body as appealing as the way he made her heart pound. His tongue slid along the bow peak of her upper lip, and she couldn’t help the moan that echoed from her mouth. He swallowed it, quieting the night, and in the stillness she heard feet thunder past, then dim and echo down the street. With it, he pulled away, his mouth leaving hers with a final soft, gentle pull on her bottom lip.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his fingers drifting down her neck, and she could feel her pulse hammer under his touch. “But I figured it would be the only way they wouldn’t spot us.”

“I, uh….” she trailed off, unsure what to say to the stranger in front of her. _He was saying sorry for kissing her like that?_ “Thank you?”

“Is that a question?” he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“N-no, if course not,” she stammered. Then she took a deep breath, and slid her hands from his neck to his chest, pushing him away. It was as if it had suddenly hit her, how close they were in proximity to each other. “Thank you. But I could have gotten away very well on my own.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, tucking his tongue firmly in cheek. “Probably better than if I hadn’t gotten in your way.”

“Probably,” she retorted. She felt the tension in her shoulders begin to rise - she couldn’t help it. It happened every time anyone made fun of her, and she had the distinct feeling this stranger was doing just that.

“But at least you’re safe now,” he told her gently, as if sensing her shift in mood. “What were they after you for?”

Shrugging, and figuring she had nothing to lose, held open the side of her jacket to show him the bread. “I was a little hungry.”

“You stole it?” His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Yes,” she snapped. “I can’t afford to buy food, so I do what I gotta do.”

“But everyone in One is well fed and can afford food,” he said in confusion.

“Yeah, well I’m not from One either.” The moment the words slipped from her mouth, she regretted them. Not only had she admitted to this guy - a complete and utter stranger - that she’d stolen bread, but that she’d broken the cardinal rule of crossing over into another district. _There was no way he wouldn’t feel obligated to turn her in now._

Instead, she was surprised when he reached for her hand again, drawing her deeper into the alleyway until they reached a small gate. Pushing the wrought iron open, she realised they were in a small courtyard, surrounded by lush plants and a fountain in the centre, a man wielding a trident and only a net to cover his modesty atop the marble base. He gestured for her to take a seat, dropping beside her the moment she did.

Leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees, he turned to her. “So what’s your name?”

********

Her eyes had been silver, and they’d cut through him like a knife. They’d stared up at him, full of terror and fear and, in complete contrast to the other two, _hope_. Everything in his heart had bloomed and shattered and tugged all at once and he couldn’t think of doing anything but helping her. From what, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

He’d never kissed anyone before, had simply gone on instinct. He hadn’t really set out to kiss her senseless, her lips dry and faintly tasting of mint, and his heart pounding out of his chest, his stomach curling in anticipation. But he had, until the footsteps that had been bearing down on them had receded into the distance.

Now he sat beside her in an empty courtyard he’d spied as he’d walked through the alleys, waiting patiently as her hands twisted in her lap, as she glanced around warily.

“Katniss,” She finally sighed. “My name is Katniss.”

“And where are you from, if you’re not from One?”

“What does it matter?”

“Because I want to know a little about the woman I helped tonight.” _Because I want to know about the woman who slayed me with nothing but her eyes_.

“I’m from Twelve,” she murmured.

Peeta closed his eyes, remembered the lessons his Governess had taken him through all through his schooling so far. The map of Panem - each District shaped almost exactly like a wedge in a pie, the gleaming Capitol a perfect circle in the centre - came to mind and his heart sank as he remembered Ms Trinket’s off-the-cuff description of the final district. “Coal mining, right? That’s your district’s primary labour?” She nodded, and it made sense. _Of course she was starving. That district was the most downtrodden of all, and for many years, the Capitol had simply stopped paying them attention. His mother had often commented they were barely good enough to provide the coal they produced, and little was done to make their lives any easier._ “Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?”

Katniss rolled her eyes, resting her palms on the cool marble bench and leaning back slightly. “Absolutely. But faced with dying of starvation or taking a risk? I don’t have much of an option.” She eyed him warily. “What’s it to you, anyway? You’re from here, it shouldn’t matter a thing.”

“I…” Peeta trailed off, unsure of what to say. How could he explain to her that he was from the most well off family in the entirety of Panem, the worry of hunger and dying from it the furthest thing from his mind? “I’m not from this part of town,” he finally said vaguely. “And I guess I just don’t like to see or hear about inequality.”

She rose, securely tugging her jacket around her. “Well, unless you’re the King, buddy, there isn’t much you can do about it. Now I gotta get going, before-” His hand shot out before he could stop it, his fingers looping around her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Because…” _We only just met?_ “I want to know more about you.” _I want to know everything about you_.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she mumbled, though he could see the pink beginning to stain her cheeks, the pink that had risen and bloomed when he’d first kissed her.

"Everyone always has something to tell. Even if it's something simple."

"Like what?" She challenged.

"Favourite colour," he retorted.

"Green."

"Favourite activity?"

"Shooting an arrow out of a bow. At annoying boys," she snapped.

He laughed. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Peeta smiled, bright and big, one he was ashamed to admit that he used on Ms Trinket when he wanted his own way. Katniss blinked, two torturously slow blinks, while her eyes widened.

She took a step or two back. "I...I need to go. My family will worry if I don't return home."

Katniss turned to the gate a half second before it was flung open.

********

She didn’t know what was making her heart pound more; the way the blue eyed man's smile had practically seared into her soul, or the two imposing Peacekeepers in front of her, their white uniforms almost blinding in the dim courtyard.

"Thief!" One of them accused gruffly, grasping her arm tightly. She gasped, tried to yank her arm free, to no avail. His grip was tight, his fingers digging into her flesh through the thin fabric of her clothes. But she didn't say a word, refused to.

She didn't want to give them the benefit of her begging.

"You know what happens to thieves," the other said forcefully, pulling her jacket open and yanking out the bread from the inner pocket. "Straight to the stocks!"

Katniss swallowed heavily, eyes staring straight ahead towards the man who had already saved her once. She couldn’t expect him to do it again. She felt them tug her backwards towards the gate, her gaze dropping to the ground before she stumbled over her own feet in the darkness.

"Stop!" His voice was loud and as clear as a bell, and she raised her eyes; she watched in surprise as he yanked the black cap off his head, blonde hair spilling out. "Let her go!"

The arms around her loosened immediately, and she fell to the ground, her knees weak and limp. But she heard the response clear as a bell, despite the roaring in her head and the pounding of her blood through her veins.

"Our apologies, Your Highness."

_Your Highness???_

Her eyes locked with the young man's, and they glittered in the night, the blonde waves about his head glowing like a halo. His jaw was set firm, his lips pressed in a commanding line.

_Oh no._

_How could she have been so stupid not to see, not to know? It was so obviously Peeta Mellark._

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but we have orders to follow.  You’re aware of the laws, I’m sure,” one of the men said bluntly. He was middle aged, with salt and pepper hair and a hard look in his eye.

“I am aware of the laws.  But I _am_ also the future King. And therefore I request that you release this woman. She has done nothing wrong but wish to fill her belly.”

The Peacekeeper scowled. “Which leads me to my second point - she is obviously not from here, and therefore is trespassing in another district. And that, Your Highness, is something we can’t overlook.”

Peeta waved a hand. “Stop calling me Your Highness, please.” But he sighed, his eyes darting down and locking with Katniss’. “But you’re right. Something needs to be done. Organise...organise for her to be escorted back to her district.”

“But Your-”

“That’s what I want,” Peeta said abruptly. “Send her back to her district. With an escort. And the bread.”

“Master Advisor Snow won’t be happy with this,” the gruff Peacekeeper warned.

“That’s my burden to bear and my issue to deal with,” Peeta replied warily. “Now call for the District Twelve Escort and have them meet us here. Immediately.”

Katniss knew the Peacekeepers didn’t agree with Peeta’s demands, could feel the frustration emanating off them like heat. But the younger of the two dutifully reached into a discreet pocket of his hard-shelled jacket, pulled out a slim communicator. She heard him mumbling, the words he spoke obscured from her by his back, while the older man stalked over to Peeta, hissing in his ear angrily. She didn’t tempt herself to stand, or move, or run. Right now, she was being given free passage back to Twelve, with little punishment.

And she had the future king of Panem to thank for it.

********

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” Peeta said quietly moments later, kneeling down so that he was at her level. Katniss raised her eyes, scanning over to the two Peacekeepers who now guarded the gate, before biting her lip.

“You’ve done more than enough,” she told him. “I…I… _thank you_.” The words trailed off in a whisper, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest. He hadn’t done enough. Not nearly enough. And here she was, thanking him for a simple loaf of bread and a trip back to Twelve.

“Will you be ok?”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. They both sat there in silence, and he wished he knew what to say. What he wanted to say - _he wanted to tell her that her eyes were beautiful, that her determination was amazing, that he wanted to get to know her better_ \- wasn’t suitable right now, wasn’t something he felt right in saying.

But it didn’t stop him thinking about it.

He watched as the District Twelve escort finally appeared - a man unsteady on his feet, with a face shadowed by a three day growth and a jacket that smelled like it had seen better days - and discussed the task at hand with the two Peacekeepers. The man gave him a tip of the head that managed to be both honouring and insolent, and had to hold back a snort. If Deliah Mellark - the current reigning monarch with her husband - had encountered this man, he would have been sent back to Twelve with his tail between his legs and no job to speak of.

They left, one final glance from Katniss over her shoulder shaking him to the core.

He hoped and wished with everything inside him that he would see her again one day.

********

It took her less than 10 minutes to figure it out, but she knew it like she knew what time the sun would rise, knew it like she knew how her arrow would hit the bullseye she’d painted on trees with berry juice.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’re not an escort,” she snapped, whirling on him and pointing a finger in his face. “I've seen Twelve's escort, and it _isn't_ you. Who the hell are you, and where are you taking me?”

He laughed, a throaty, scratchy sound that really didn’t sound like a laugh at all. “Well aren’t you observant. Of course I’m not a damned escort. Do you think I’d do something as weak-piss as that?”

“I don’t know, because I _don’t know you_.” They’d left the cobbled streets of One behind, and were now beginning the trek through the woods that would lead her back to Twelve. “But if you’re here to kill me, do it now and get it over with.”

The man - apparently named Haymitch, from what she’d overheard the Peacekeepers say - snorted. “If I wanted to kill you, sweetheart, I just would have done away with the lot of you back in that courtyard.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes, and shrugged. “I got no secrets, and I’ve gotta tell you sooner or later. So, if you must know...I’m a genie.”

Katniss laughed; she couldn’t help it. It fell from her lips, almost choked the breath out of her. “How drunk are you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He scowled. “Does this look like the face of a man who likes to make jokes?”

Katniss studied the man from the top of his bedraggled, chin length hair the colour of soot, to the tip of the well-worn boots that ensconced his feet. His demeanor was hostile, his eyes narrowed. _No, he definitely didn’t_. _Maybe….maybe he was telling the truth. Stranger things had happened in Panem over the years._

"Well?" He snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Done looking?"

Katniss shrugged. "You're just...not exactly what I imagined you'd look like."

He barked out a laugh, and the stale smell of liquor bottled for years wafted around him. "You spend a lot of time thinking about what genies look like, sweetheart?"

“No, but….genie’s don’t _really_ exist,” she insisted. Then her brow furrowed in consternation.  “Do they?”

He sighed in frustration. “Quit arguing and just believe me. I’m a genie, and that’s all there is to it. Do you want the spiel? We’re made up of every star ever wished on and...oh, blah blah blah, who cares.  For some reason, I’ve been assigned to you.”

“Assigned...assigned to me?”

“To possibly my everlasting regret. Yes, assigned to you til I’ve done my job. Someone out there thinks you deserve three wishes, and I’m here to grant them.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, unscrewed the top off of a small flask, and raised it to his lips, swallowing deeply. “But, if you’re gonna get all caught up on semantics, you can call me your Mentor instead. Sound better?”

She nodded dumbly. She didn’t know what else to do.

_She had a genie?_


	2. Chapter 2

"Peeta Mellark, you are the future ruler of this country. What kind of impression do you think your _gallivanting_ around Panem gives, on you and on this family?"

"I apologise." He folded his hands deferentially, though he felt anything but.

"You _apologise_?" The retort was bitter, venomous and laced with contempt - nothing outside of the usual.

Deliah Mellark, ruling Queen of Panem, stood in front of the wide double doors that looked out over the Capitol, her hands firmly on her hips and her lips pursed in a blood red pout. Peeta's return to the mansion after his escape into One had not been pleasant, and he'd spent the last 20 minutes going around in circles while his mother berated him and his father simply looked on, disappointment clear on his face.

"I'm sorry," Peeta reiterated and lowered his eyes to the ground. "I just wanted to...experience one of the Districts."

"Peeta, that's what we have bodyguards and protocol for," his father, Nolan, said calmly from the velvet high-backed chair that he'd favoured for as long as Peeta could remember. "We do that for your safety, protection and wellbeing."

"But I never get to go out there," he argued, lifting his eyes and his hands imploringly. "How am I supposed to rule this country one day if I'm never allowed to go out, even _with_ guards?!"

"And that's obviously for good reason," Deliah snapped. "Look what happens to you when you _do_ go out there! You get brought back to the mansion by Peacekeepers - after letting a criminal go, no less."

Peeta's jaw firmed, his eyes flashed.  "The girl did nothing wrong," he said firmly. "The course of action I took was appropriate. I sent her back to her own district with the relevant escort, who will provide her with explicit instructions never to return." _To his everlasting regret._

"She should have been brought to the authorities; you know that Your Highness." Peeta turned at the voice; it was deep and modulated, with a slight edge to it that always hinted at something sinister.

Master Advisor Snow stood framed in the doorway, the hair as white as his name swept back from his forehead. His slim, almost fragile body was clad in a burgundy coat that fell to his knees and was embellished with one simple white rose at his breast pocket. His dark, emotionless eyes revealed nothing of his inner thoughts.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Advisor Snow, but I did what I thought was for the best," Peeta managed to mutter as politely as possible.

"You know the laws and regulations," Snow reminded him, his eyebrow rising infinitesimally in judgement. "You should be thoroughly familiar with them by now."

"I am. However, it is also the responsibility of a ruler - or future ruler - to make sound judgements he believes to be correct in a particular situation. I've read that in my study books as well." Peeta didn't break eye contact with the man, though he hated to admit that inside he was shaking. There was something about the man who was Deliah and Nolan's most respected advisor that he simply didn't trust.

Snow pressed his lips together.  "I concede your point, Your Highness. Regardless-"

"May I go now? I know I did wrong, I regret my actions, I won’t do it again." Peeta interrupted. He knew he sounded like a stroppy teenager, but he didn't need to hear any more of this tonight and definitely didn't need to be lectured any more than he already had.

"No you-"

"Yes." Nolan cut his wife off, their eyes locking in a battle of wills over their youngest son. "You may go. But I don't want to hear of you sneaking out again. You have responsibilities to uphold, a nation to prepare for leading.  You cannot afford slights of behaviour like this."

"Yes Father," Peeta replied with a short nod, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, ignoring the eyes of both his mother and the advisor that bore into his back as he went.

The elegant hallways were long, and decorated as befitting a ruling family. Gilt edged mirrors and embellished frames that encased portraits of the current Mellarks and those before them, along with soft, intricately patterned rugs that his feet sunk into. Glossy mahogany tables topped with statuary and useless trinkets lined up along the walls, curtains thick and a shade of deep purple framed windows that looked out onto gardens or a pool or the Capitol itself.

Everything about it made Peeta feel like he was suffocating.

His life as he knew it had begun when his brother turned 12, the day the Scrolls deemed Aaran Mellark old enough to have his fate determined. The old Scrolls had, for hundreds of years, been able to predict exactly what role each and every Mellark offspring would fulfil – and would definitively advise who the next ruler of Panem would be when the time for succession came. No one questioned it or queried how simple, yellowed parchments of paper could foresee so far into the future.

_There were some questions in Panem that were never, ever asked. That was one of them._

But that fateful day the middle Mellark brother was deemed to be an envoy, to be a conduit between the various districts of Panem and the Capitol, Peeta's own future was sealed. He was the only remaining heir, the only one who _could_. So on his own twelfth birthday, the announcement revealed by the reading of Scroll 74 wasn't a surprise - Peeta Mellark was destined to rule, and had therefore been groomed for it in the 6 years since.

He stalked into his room - refusing to slam the door like he knew his mother would if their positions were reversed - and flopped down on his bed. He was annoyed, frustrated, stifled - but more than anything, intrigued. Even though hours and miles separated them, he still couldn't get the girl he'd met out of his mind.

 _Katniss Everdeen._ He rolled the words around his tongue, thought they were silky and beautiful and almost magic. _At least he had her name_.  One day maybe, he'd be able to find her again.

He closed his eyes and allowed the image of her, eyes wide, terrified and determined, to come to mind. He thought about how her dry lips had felt under his, his first kiss that he would likely recount over and over in his head for days to come. He thought about the courage she’d shown and how she’d broken the rules to do what she needed to survive. How he wasn’t certain he would ever meet someone like her again.

Eventually he slept and his dreams were full of long dark hair trailing through his fingers, the fateful Scrolls ripping and tearing beneath his feet and a golden pin that glowed with life and secrets.

********

Katniss' eyes flew open, staring at the ceiling above her. At first she didn't know what had startled her from sleep - her belly wasn't grumbling, Prim was still tucked into her side, and there was no pounding rain overhead threatening to bring the flimsy roof down upon them. And then she remembered.

_Haymitch Abernathy, fake escort and real genie, was in her home._

Yanking herself quickly but carefully out of bed so as to not wake Prim, she pulled off her thin, ragged pyjamas and replaced them with sturdy thick pants that were beginning to see better days and a long sleeved black shirt. She hurried down the stairs, twisting her long strands of hair into her standard braid and stopped short when she saw him in the small sitting room. He leant back in her mother’s rocking chair, feet propped on the wooden table she and her father had carved together when she’d been no older than ten.

"Has my mother seen you?" She hissed without greeting. He chuckled.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart," Haymitch smirked. "And no, she walked out the front door an hour ago, oblivious. I can make myself...unseeable when required."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You can make yourself invisible?"

"What? No." He snorted.  "You think I'm a magician or something? I hid in the damn closet. Pretty sure I swallowed a fur ball while I was in there." He coughed pitifully, and she rolled her eyes.

"Why are you still here anyway? I figured you would have left by now," Katniss demanded, ignoring his theatrics. They'd argued bitterly on the trip home - he insisting he had to stay until his job was done, she telling him she was sure he was confused and to go back to the Capitol. He'd won, not that she would admit it.

"Told you that already," he reminded her. "So get cracking with your wishes. I seem to remember Twelve having a distiller that makes liquor strong enough to burn your stomach lining and I want in on that before my day is done."

"You're a genie – why don’t you make it yourself?" Katniss retorted.

"Why do that when someone else can do it for me?" He argued. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a slim volume of yellowed paper, its cover a thick, midnight blue leather - it was worn and obviously years older than she. "Here. I should have given you this last night, but you were so damn testy. It's guidelines, do's and don'ts of the genie business." He glanced down at the small watch that dangled on a silver chain from his belt loop. "You got an hour to read it. Now scram."

"But Prim-"

"Your sister?  She'll be fine," Haymitch said firmly. "I guarantee your mother will be walking back in that door 5 minutes after you walk out of it."

"And you know that how?"

Haymitch huffed. "Quit with the questions already and just go." He held the book out to her, waiting until her fingertips grasped the end before rising to his feet. "I'll come find you when you're done." She watched him walk out with little more than a shrug of his shoulders, and her mouth opened and closed uselessly.

Without much else to do, Katniss shoved her feet into her worn boots and headed for the meadow, the one place within the confines of the district she could be assured she’d be left alone. She knew by this time of the morning she would have already missed the miners on the way to their shift, and the Seam kids wouldn’t have headed off to school yet.  She remembered fondly back when Gale, her closest friend and the only other person in their district adept at hunting the wild animals that crept into their district, used to accompany her to the meadow. She would carve arrows for the bow her father had made her; he would angrily vent over the inequality between each district and the Capitol. They hadn’t spent a day in the meadow since he’d entered the depths of the mines 2 years earlier.

Dragging her feet across the dirt, she moved into the meadow and dropped to the ground onto the dead, dry grass. She flipped open the slim volume to the first page – the heading simply announcing _Congratulations_ – and with a sigh, began to read.

It sucked her in, the unexpected history behind Panem that she never knew – how genies came into being millennia ago, a result of when people still believed in the magical and mystical. How they were few and far between in current times, and only ever revealed themselves to those worthy, only gave wishes to those deemed befitting of such a gift. How a misjudged wish had once inadvertently led to the time that separated the old Panem from the Panem she knew today, and changed the course of history. How another later – and far smarter – wish had brought about the demise of the archaic practices that ruined families, demolished lives, and led children to the slaughter.

All these things she had never, ever known were the result of a simple wish. And it made her nervous with the implications for her decisions.

Lying back in the grass, she stared up at the sky and watched the clouds drift lazily across the sky.  She’d been resigned to her lot in life and had determined long ago that all she was meant for was a simple life, one where she would undoubtedly struggle to eat or live some days. But with this…with this, her entire life could change. And thinking of the physical deterioration of Prim that had caused her to take the risk the day before and venture into One, she knew immediately what her first wish would be.

“Oh, really?”

Katniss yelped, pulling herself into a sitting position to see Haymitch in front of her. “What are you doing?!” she exclaimed, cursing herself that she’d been distracted enough that she hadn’t noticed him creep up on her.  “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” he replied, not sounding it in the slightest. “But apparently you’ve decided on your first wish?”

Katniss frowned. “How did you know that? I just…” she trailed off, looking at him suspiciously. “You can’t hear my thoughts, can you?” She worried that the thoughts that had occupied her mind before bed the night before - of blond hair, blue eyes and a charming smile - had been transparent to him.

“Thank the stars, no,” he smirked. “But once a decision has been made on a wish, I know. So here I am, ready and waiting.”

Taken aback by the suddenness of the situation, Katniss nervously rubbed her eyes with balled fists before looking back up at him. “This is it then? I can’t take it back?”

“You read the book?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know the answer. Quit stalling and tell me the wish.”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “I wish…I wish for well-being and good health – physically and mentally - for my family for the rest of our lives.”

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“When you live in a district where a simple cold can mean your life, yes, that’s it,” Katniss said firmly. She didn’t explain that with this wish she hoped it would cure her mother of her apathy, of the melancholy she’d slipped into the day Katniss’ father had died in a mine explosion 7 years before.

"Alright then. Your wish, sweetheart, is my command." He closed his eyes, and she saw his lips moving slightly. The air around them changed; it shimmered and shook and danced, and Katniss looked at him in wonder as soft shades of purple and red, green and yellow emanated from him, a slight breeze playing with the tangled ends of his hair. And then suddenly it was over, almost as quickly as it had begun. He opened his eyes, grinned crookedly. "Alrighty. One down."

"It's done?" She asked dubiously.

"It's done," he confirmed. "Now you got any ideas on number two?"

Katniss raised her thumb to her mouth, nibbled on the nail nervously. "No?"

He shrugged. "No rush, I suppose. I'll let you have today to see the results of your wish. Maybe tomorrow you'll have a better idea." Haymitch turned and began to walk away before Katniss reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I told you earlier," he said wryly. "I need a drink. I'll see you again when you've made a decision."

She watched him go, his feet heavy and uncoordinated on the uneven ground. And then without haste she ran all the way back to her house, her breath coming in fits and starts as she stumbled up the couple of wooden steps that led to their front porch.

"Morning, Katniss!" Her mother greeted as she flung open the door. Mrs Everdeen stood at the kitchen counter, slicing the remainder of the bread Katniss had brought home the night before. She realised her mother's eyes were clear, the bright cornflower blue she remembered from her childhood; a small smile played across her lips as she glanced towards her daughters.

Prim sat at the table, blonde hair in two glossy braids that trailed over her shoulders, babbling mindlessly to Buttercup the cat as he pawed at her hair. Her blouse, a white that was slowly becoming grey from countless washings, hung open slightly at the neck.

And her collarbone wasn't protruding as starkly as it had only the day before.

"Katniss are you ok?" Prim asked, looking up at her. "You're staring at me weird. Do I have something on my face?"

Katniss shook her head. "I'm...I'm fine," she stammered. "And there’s nothing on your face. But are you guys…ok?"

"Of course!" Alice Everdeen replied, bringing a plate loaded with sliced bread with her and sliding into the seat beside Prim. "I don't think I've felt this good in, well...years. Now dig in, dear. We have some clients to see today. There’s a good chance Mrs Winter may go into labour this afternoon."

Katniss reached for one of the thick pieces of bread and bit into it without really tasting.

_Her wish had worked._

********

2 days later as she trudged through the small woods that lined the border between Twelve and Eleven, Katniss continued to marvel over the change in her family. Prim’s bony arms and legs had fleshed out almost overnight and the insipid pallor that had played across her cheeks had been replaced by a rosy glow. Her mother’s moods and temperament had altered dramatically, and while neither their living conditions nor their food situation had improved, the vitality that shone out of both Mrs Everdeen and Prim was astounding. Even their patients were shocked at the change in Alice, though most whispered their disbelief behind their hands rather than to her face.

And although her wish seemed to have come true, Katniss hadn’t heard or seen from Haymitch since their meeting in the meadow. She was beginning to wonder if somehow she’d made it all up in her mind, that her hunger for food was causing her to lose her sanity and to believe in things that weren’t really happening.

She sighed as she quietly moved around another tree, the air and trees and ground quiet and empty. There was still nothing, not a single animal in sight. Things in the district were continuing to go from bad to worse, and she had to admit she could see the effect it was having on everyone - even those from Town were struggling to put food on their table.  Her venture into One had highlighted it even more, seeing first hand people who had never had to go hungry for a single day or never had to worry if they wouldn't live to see another week through sheer lack of food. Part of her just wished she could make sure everyone always had something to eat, that they never had to go hungry or starve or rely so heavily on the meagre rations that the Capitol handed out as charity.

“You can, you know.”

Katniss whirled, her bow banging into her leg as she did so. She glared at Haymitch, who grinned as he nonchalantly leant against a tree. “Dammit, how do you _do_ that?” she asked. “I didn’t hear you at all. And where the hell have you been anyway?  You grant my wish and then just disappear?”

“That’s the point,” he said simply. “I’ve left you alone for the last few days - I didn’t get much of an inkling from you that you’d come to any decisions. So no reason for me to lurk around and bother you.”

“Except I thought I’d imagined you,” she snapped, slinging her unused bow across her shoulder.

"Well I'm here now," Haymitch replied. "Do you want to tell me what your wish is?"

"I...I haven't decided," she said slowly. _Had she?_

Haymitch folded his arms across his chest. "While you've got designated wishes, we have a _connection_ , for lack of a better word. When you make a decision, I know. And about 5 minutes ago, my 'wish radar', or whatever you want to call it, went off. So you must have thought of something."

Katniss shoved her hands in the pockets of the jacket she always wore out hunting as she recollected her thoughts. "The last thing I was thinking about was..." her head rose in surprise as she realised she _had_ decided, she just hadn't known it at the time. _It_ _was so simple_. "I was thinking about Twelve, about how hungry people are. And so I wish…”she took a deep breath. “I wish for the people of District Twelve to never go hungry or starve and I never want them to have to worry about where their next meal is coming from."

Haymitch pushed off the tree, coming to stand directly in front of her. "You're pretty selfless aren't you, sweetheart?"

Gale's words from her teenage years played over in her head. "No," she finally said firmly. "I just don't like injustice. No one should have to go wanting while others have everything. And I never want to see my sister go hungry again."

He nodded approvingly. “It’s as good as done,” he said, and the breeze swirled around them.

********

Effie Trinket studied the notes Peeta had made as part of his homework, making marks and checks against his comments as she went. Her bronze tipped nails tapped against the portable screen, the thick bracelets that encircled her wrists clanking against the table with each tap of her finger.

“Now this all looks fine but I do believe we need to study up a little more on the greeting policies of District Three,” she started without looking up at him. Her eyes continued to scroll across the screen, a little humph falling for her lips. “And must I remind you again that Four requires at least _two_ days notice before a royal visit?”

“Sorry, Effie, I forgot,” Peeta told her. “I’ll remember that the next time I plan to go out there.”

She looked up at him and shook her head. “After the little stunt you pulled last week, I cannot see you visiting Four anytime soon,” she said, her tone prim and short.

“Oh, I know,” Peeta replied wryly. He’d spent the last week under even more house arrest than normal; he’d been restricted to within the confines of the inside of the mansion, with his study sessions doubled. Still, none of it changed the fact that he knew it had been worth it.

The door to his quarters suddenly slammed open, and both he and Effie visibly startled at the sound, looking over in time to see Aaran flying in the doorway.

“Shit, Peeta, you gotta see this!” He exclaimed, grabbing the projector remote from the desk and aiming it towards the screen that dominated one wall of the study.

“Language, Aaran Mellark! What kind of envoy utters such words?!” Effie admonished. He muttered an insincere apology as he flicked through various channels before stopping on one where a town square bustled and a reporter with bright green hair looked down the barrel of the camera.

“...and residents of District Twelve have been unable to explain the recent growth in crops, nor the cattle that have suddenly been found to be grazing in their meadow,” the reporter was saying, the incredulity in their voice obvious. The monologue was interspersed with footage of groups of people in the square, their arms laden with food and of children happily giggling around a cow as it mooed; a sweeping shot that showed what looked like a large crop of wheat, and of chickens clucking around a doorway.

“This is in District Twelve?” Effie asked, her mouth agape. “What on earth is going on?

“I don’t know, none of us do,” Aaran tossed over his shoulder. “Apparently someone in Twelve contacted Cressida in Media Relations and told her about it. It’s like a...miracle.”

“Oh miracles don’t happen, Aaran,” Effie said blithely. “It just must be a good season for them. How fortunate!”

“Well, I thought so too,” he replied, and rolled his eyes. “But no surprises that our Master Advisor is highly unimpressed with such a lowly district upending the delicate balances of our nation.”

“What?” Peeta exclaimed. “Can’t he see how good it is for that district and its people?” _All he could think about was Katniss, and how amazing this was for her. If this continued, she’d never go hungry again_.

His brother snorted. “Do you really think Snow cares about things like that?”

“Aaran, do not speak so lowly of Master Advisor Snow,” Effie told him firmly. “You need to show him some respect.”

“I don’t need to do anything - he’s Mom and Dad’s advisor, not mine.” He sighed, dropped the remote back onto the table. “Anyway, I’m being sent out there tomorrow to determine what’s going on.”

“Really?” Peeta began. “Because-”

And then he stopped. _It was her._ _Katniss_ was on the screen, a spring in her step and a flush on her cheeks as she walked hurriedly through the square with a middle aged man leisurely trailing behind her.

_Was that Escort Abernathy?_

Peeta rose slowly to his feet. “Aaran, I need to come with you to Twelve.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The sun beamed down on the district, filtering through trees and setting the autumn leaves alight. There was a frivolity to the main square, a light-heartedness and enthusiasm that hadn’t been there for a long time. Cheeks were rosy, bellies were full, and larders were stocked. The district was, for the first time in its history, flourishing. And even though Katniss was thrilled beyond belief, part of her was utterly frustrated. She dropped her head in her hands. “Haymitch, I honestly didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“No one ever does, sweetheart, let’s face it. But this isn’t a bad thing. Look how much food the district has.”

Katniss sighed noisily, then looked up and glared across the square to where the green-haired reporter was brushing at her coat while her cameraman packed up their equipment. “I understand that. But _that_ ,” she gestured over to the reporter, “Is annoying. I didn’t want people from the Capitol poking around here.” _Not with her recent history. Especially_ _not with her recent history._

Haymitch folded his arms across his chest, leant back against the edge of the building they were standing beside. “This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen as a result of a wish,” he reminded her, and she begrudgingly nodded her head. She knew that now, after reading the book he’d given her.   _Games where children were sent to slaughter each other, wars where men and children and women died, plunging the country into chaos._

_Yes. There were always worse wishes to make._

“You’re right. But the Capitol has always ignored us, happy to let us die out, as long as we fill our quota of coal. The last thing any of us want is them sniffing around, trying to find out what’s happened.”

Haymitch shrugged, reached into his jacket pocket and slipped out a small silver flask. He raised it to his lips. “I think wish fulfilment will be low on their list of explanations," he said wryly. "Regardless, they’ll be gone soon enough.”

"I suppose," Katniss replied, then glanced up at him curiously. "Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Were those...were those wishes yours?"

"What wishes?"

"You know. The ones..."

Haymitch took another deep swallow from the flask before sliding it back into his pocket. "The ones that led to the Dark Days, and the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah."

His lips firmed into a straight line. "Nope. I’ve granted a lot of stupid or damaging wishes, but I haven't had anything like that on my conscience, thankfully."

They fell into silence, Katniss wondering what kind of person would make the type of wish that would lead to such terrible moments in their history, when suddenly Haymitch chuckled under his breath. She turned to him angrily. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "You think the Games are funny?"

"Hardly," he retorted snappily. "I was actually just remembering the time I had to turn a guy into a monkey."

Katniss' mouth dropped open in surprise. "What? A monkey?"

"Yeah." Haymitch shook his head as he remembered. "See, there's two wishes I can't grant. One, I can't bring anyone back from the dead. Two, I can't make someone fall in love with someone else."

"What a stupid wish," Katniss muttered.

"Anyway," Haymitch glared at her, "This girl I was granting wishes to wanted this boy to fall in love with her. Clove, her name was. Who knows how the hell she deserved three wishes, but I'm not the one to make those decisions." He shrugged. "When she asked, I told her I couldn't grant it, and instead, she watched as he fell in love with the girl next door. And because she couldn't have him, no one could. So Cato Anderson became a monkey. She kept him as a pet."

"Are you serious? How long ago was this?" Katniss asked, the shock evident in her voice, and Haymitch snorted.

"I'm deadly serious. And it happened maybe...9, 10 months ago?" He folded his arms across his chest. "You see, sweetheart, wishes are serious business, they're not to be made lightly. And now some poor kid is going to spend the rest of his life as a monkey because some girl got her panties in a twist 'cause she couldn't have him. That's why I like you. You got some spunk to you, but you've also got a brain, and you've used it. 2 outta 2 so far - let's hope wish number three lives up to the others."

The mention of her final wish tied her stomach in knots. The first two had been easy - the third...she still had no clue. She couldn't think of anything else that she'd want to wish for. Haymitch had already shut down the one other thing she could ever hope for, with a flippant sentence, and a confirmation that seeing her father again wasn't something that could happen. She cleared her throat.

"I'm still thinking about it. For now...for now I’m going to head home. See Prim."

Haymitch nodded. "Alright. You know how to find me when you need me.”

Katniss raised an eyebrow. “Actually...I don’t. You always find me.”

He chuckled. “Got me there. Alright then. I’ll find you when I know I need to find you.” He tipped his head, meandered away across the square, sidestepping a couple of kids running through with corn stalks clutched in their hands, their faces grubby with dirt, but still wreathed in smiles. Seeing them reminded Katniss of why she’d selected her second wish. She knew she’d made the right choice, even with the possibility of added scrutiny that could come from the Capitol as a result.

She didn’t expect gratitude or thanks; knowing no one was going to bed hungry was all the thanks she needed.

********

_The stones were hard and cold against her back, but he was warm, so warm. Even through the thin fabric of her jacket she could feel the heat pulsing from his body, and she wondered if hers was the same, whether he could feel her heart pounding out of her chest, whether the heat building in her blood and under her skin was emanating from her in waves._

_She splayed her hands against his chest, let his hand drift down and grip her hip tightly, pulling her closer. He swallowed her gasp with his mouth, his lips moving hungrily against hers. And she knew she never wanted it to end, didn’t want to stop, wanted to drag him into the shadows and have his hands on_ _her. And considering she’d never had those feelings before, never had that draw deep down in her belly, it frightened her, made her start._

_But then he wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzled his lips against the hollow of her throat._

_And it made her moan instead._

Katniss’ eyes flew open, her heart pounding, her stomach quivering. Turning her head, she glanced out the window, at the stars that peeked through the clouds, at the way the clouds drifted across the moon, as she tried to calm her breathing. It was the same, _again_. Like every other night since she’d gone to District One. She didn't understand why she couldn’t get past it, why she couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn't like she'd ever see him again; he was the future King for crying out loud. It had just been a stupid kiss and it wasn't like she even _wanted_ that kind of relationship anyway. They were a waste of time, a sure-fire way to heartbreak and loneliness. Only silly, love-struck girls would want to wish for stupid things like that. Silly girls like Haymitch's Clove.

But even she had to admit, in the dead of night, that there was a hunger that couldn’t be sated with the wish she’d wished.

********

The amount of patients who came through the Everdeen door had dwindled since she’d made her wish. With supplies plentiful, starvation was no longer a matter of life or death, and those with emaciated frames didn’t have the need to visit with Alice for remedies she could never provide to fix that form of ailment. Alice herself continued to thrive, instead spending her time creating new poultices, serums and medications for those who had illnesses beyond the help of food alone. And this afternoon, instead of having to work on a patient, she was humming happily at the counter as she plucked one of the wild chickens that now roamed the district, and Prim was talking a mile a minute, her eyes sparkling.

“And then Jenny Waters came into the lunch room and she had an _orange_. An _orange_ , Katniss! It smelled so good, and after school she took us home to show us, and a whole tree in her backyard was covered in them!” Prim reached into her pocket, and Katniss marvelled at the perfect orange ball she held out in her hand. It smelled sweet and strong and Katniss trailed a fingertip lightly over the pebbled peel. She remembered one, from long ago, that her father had shared, the juice dribbling down her chin as she sucked on the quarter he’d handed her. It was a good memory, one she held onto for many reasons - most of all the quiet happiness in her father’s eyes as he’d watched her eat it.

“ _This_ came off that bedraggled tree in the Waters’ backyard?” Katniss asked, remembering the spindly tree that she’d caught Prim and Jenny climbing last summer, the branches barely strong enough to hold their weight.

“Yup!” Prim laughed, plucking the orange from her hand and tossing it up in the air before catching it again. “ _Full_ of them, and it’s all green and leafy and has these huge branches now. I can’t believe it, Katniss. This week...things have changed so much. All this food, from nowhere. It’s like all our wishes have come true!”

Katniss almost choked on her own breath. _If only she knew_.

“Did you tell Rory about the oranges?” Katniss asked, swallowing heavily to try and make sure her voice didn’t squeak.

Prim nodded enthusiastically, her twin braids swinging around her shoulders as she did so. “Mmm-hmm. He was with us when Jenny showed us the tree. He took an armful, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him run home fast enough!” _Good_. “But you know what this means, Katniss?”

“What?”

Prim plopped down at the table, began to tear away the peel from the oranges flesh. “We’ll never, ever have to worry about rations from the Capitol again. _Ever_!”

The shiver ran down Katniss’ spine, unexpected and unwelcomed, and she rued the fact that she hadn't thought of this already, had only thought of the scrutiny of where the food _came_ from. But if she knew one thing for certain, it was that the Capitol didn’t like their balance upended. And if Twelve’s residents knew they didn’t have to rely on the Capitol anymore, the Capitol had no control, no leverage over them. Now she was _certain_ they would be watching. And were likely very, very unhappy about it.

The nerves in her belly were strong and insistent.

********

“Absolutely not. No. You lost any sort of right like that the moment you disappeared off to District One!”

“I didn’t disappear, and I didn’t have any of those rights to _start_ with. All I want to do is go out and see Twelve, to see what’s happening there. Don’t you think as the future King, I have a right to?” Peeta held out his hands in supplication, trying to keep his voice level and calm, the opposite to the raised tones of his mother. He sometimes wondered if she forgot that _she_ didn’t really hold the power, not in the same way his father did. But the King was a kind one and avoided confrontation as much as he possibly could - especially when it came to his family.

Peeta and Aaran had had to wait 24 hours before being able to speak with their parents about Peeta accompanying Aaran on his visit to Twelve. The Monarchs had been in closed door talks with their closest advisors, and not even their sons could intervene in those matters. But the moment they’d been relieved, Peeta and Aaran had headed straight for the King’s study, and had cornered them with their proposal.

“Mom, there’s no harm in Peeta accompanying me on this trip. And maybe if you let him, he might be less inclined to be irresponsible and sneak out,” Aaran butted in. Peeta glared at him, but his brother simply winked, as though it wasn’t his own intel that had enabled Peeta to escape the confines of the mansion.

“ _Peeta_ is not the Envoy, is he?” Deliah hissed, placing her hands firmly on her hips.  “That is _your_ responsibility.”

“I know that,” Aaran replied. “But Peeta is right. You can’t keep him here forever without really exposing him to the realism of the districts. I’ll be there to keep an eye on him, I guarantee it.”

“I don’t-”

“I think he should go.” Nolan Mellark stood from behind his desk, rested his palms on the smooth surface of the dark, cherry wood desk that had been in the family for years. Peeta’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about the incident, and I believe...we may have inadvertently caused it. By limiting Peeta’s access to the districts, we’re limiting his knowledge. I think if we open the boundaries-”

“Open the boundaries?” Deliah’s fuchsia tinted lips pursed angrily. She stalked over to the marble fireplace, staring into the simulated flames that crackled needlessly.  “The moment we start opening boundaries is the moment we start opening ourselves to outside influences. And we all know what outside influences can do.”

“Really?” Nolan straightened, folded his arms across his chest.

“I’ll remind you of your Great-Grandfather, and his penchant for ‘sneaking into the Districts’,” she snapped back, turning back and over-exaggerating her example with air quotes. “Who knows how many bastard Mellarks are out there because of that?”

“That’s irrelevant, Deliah, and you know it.” Nolan shook his head. “I know I usually defer to you on matters in this house while I oversee this country. But here we strongly disagree. Peeta, you may visit District Twelve with your brother.”

Peeta’s eyes lit up, and he practically leapt up from his seat, his feet sinking into the deep carpet as he crossed the opulent room to shake his father’s hand. “I promise you won’t regret this. I’ll do you proud,” he promised as his father clasped his hand and shook it firmly.

“You’d better,” Deliah snapped, stalking across the room to the door, and flinging it open. She glared at Nolan. “You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m making a sound decision,” Nolan said firmly, and she narrowed her eyes in return. Without another word, she swept from the room, and Peeta watched as his father turned back to him. “You’d best make the most of this experience, Peeta. Your mother may not make it so easy next time.”

“Easy?” Aaran snorted. “Nothing is ever easy with her.”

“Have some respect, Aaran,” Nolan admonished mildly. “Show some of the diplomacy you present while travelling.”

“Yes, sir,” Aaran replied, and began to outline the logistics of the trip. But by now, Peeta was barely listening to their exchange. He was going to Twelve. He would see the country.

_He would see Katniss_.

********

The train shot through the valley, the flourishing outlying plains and lush forests on the edge of the Capitol giving way to dried out fields and grass more yellow than green. Peeta couldn't tear himself away from the window, staring out as it rushed by him in a blur.

"How long as the land been like this?" He asked quietly, turning to his brother. Aaran looked up from the electronic screen he'd be studying and shrugged.

"As long as anyone knows, really. That's why what's happened in the centre of the District is so out of the norm. There's never been any history of any form of edible food crops or agriculture out here. Ever."

"So we basically have to investigate because for the first time in their history, Twelve has enough food to feed its people? Why can't we just...let it be?" Peeta shook his head in annoyance. He might be a part of the trip, but it didn't mean he had to like the motivations.

"I wish we could. But Advisor Snow has made it clear that this situation could unbalance the day to day running of the Capitol." He shifted in his seat awkwardly.  "I may not agree with all the tasks given to me, Peeta, but I have to follow them."

"Since when?" Peeta snorted. "You've been breaking the rules all your life."

"True," Aaran admitted with a quick grin. "But when it's for work, it's different. You'll know that soon- _Holy shit."_

Aaran's expletive caused Peeta to turn back to the window and follow his shocked gaze. Now, instead of bare fields and a sense of desperation, green fields had popped up, full of wheat and of corn. Trees lined the edges and the train tracks, laden with fruit of every colour he could think of. And as the train began to slow and pull into the station at the edge of town, he could see a cow lowing comfortably in the grass nearby. _A real, live cow._

"I guess this is new," Peeta murmured.

"Holy shit," Aaran echoed, his eyes still wide and surprised. Peeta wasn't sure there was anything else he could say; so he didn't. Instead he simply studied the people bustling about in preparation of the trains’ arrival.

Ten minutes later they stood on the platform, Twelve’s welcoming committee being led by the district's Mayor.

"Welcome, Your Highnesses." The middle-aged man dipped into a low bow, and Aaran brushed the formality aside with a grin and a clap on the back.

"Please, Mayor Undersee, I've requested often enough that you don't have to address me that way."

"I know, Si- Aaran. But it is also not often that we have the pleasure of the company of the future King." His bushy eyebrows rose over eyes of faded green as he looked over at Peeta, who was standing discreetly at the edge of their group. With a charming smile, Peeta stepped forward.

"Mayor Undersee, I've heard plenty of good things about you and your District from my brother. Your hospitality is always appreciated; and I can only insist that you call me Peeta as well."

The mayor - a simple man with greying hair, a slightly rotund belly and a blind eye to many of the happenings in the district - looked at Peeta in surprise, then nodded.

"Very well, Peeta. In fairness and the sake of informality, I must also insist you call me Benedict." At Peeta's firm nod, he continued. "We're honoured to have the two of you, and your entourage" - he gestured to the secretary, and the three bodyguards that gathered around them - "here in Twelve, during a particularly flourishing time."

"Yes, of course, that's the reason we are here," Aaron said smoothly. "We're just as amazed and enthusiastic in regards to the sudden change, and could not wait to arrive to see the difference."

Benedict nodded, and gestured for them to step from the train platform towards the town car he had on hand for only occasions such as these. Their feet moved over plush green grass that had only the week before been as dry as dust. "Yes, I expected so. Alas, I have very little explanation for you, but perhaps we can take a tour around the District so you can see the change for yourself."

"This would be ideal," Aaran agreed smoothly, stepping into the car as they reached it.

Peeta slid into the seat beside Aaran. "Maybe the town square would be a good place to start?" He said lightly.

Benedict Undersee shook his head. "It is quite busy at this time of day - we're best leaving that until the end. I suggest we start at the old Meadow on the edge of the Seam?" He looked towards their driver, who nodded, and Benedict took the front seat. Peeta hid his disappointment - the town square was the only place he'd seen Katniss, thought it was the best place to start in his attempt to find her. But he had no rush, he supposed, he still had two more days here. As long as he saw her, that's all that mattered.

_He couldn't tell Aaran; couldn't tell anyone. How could he explain that he'd been completely preoccupied for well over a week with a woman he'd spent but a few hours with? Aaran would laugh at him, tell him there were plenty of pretty Capitol socialites out there willing and waiting for the future King._

But he wasn't interested in that.

"Here we are," the mayor announced, alighting from the car and gesturing for Peeta and Aaran to follow. Their companions stepped from the second car, and as a group they walked to the edge of what Benedict had called a meadow.

It wasn't a meadow. Not to Peeta. It was a field of sunflowers, bright and in bloom, their faces happily turned to the sun.

"This is incredible," Aaran mused. "So different to the last time I was here."

"Yes," Benedict confirmed. "We know from this that we can harvest the seeds, and we'll be able to make oil. Long term, this will be a great benefit to the District.”

“And you’ve never known of sunflowers to grow here before?” Peeta mused.

“No, never. Just like so many of the other crops that have sprung up around the district.”

Peeta stared into the tall stalks, the long green leaves, the flowers whose faces looked as large as dinner plates. “Do you...do you mind if I go in the field?” Peeta asked.

Benedict shrugged. “I don’t see a problem.”

“Thank you.” Peeta turned to the guards, who had stood to attention at Peeta’s request. “Stay with Aaran, please. I doubt I am going to go anywhere or get into trouble in a field,” he told them wryly. They nodded disgruntledly, and Peeta moved into the field alone, enjoying the quiet, the whispering of the leaves as they brushed up against each other in the breeze.

Maybe it was what everyone was saying it was - a miracle, a blessing. Who knew? He wasn’t sure it even mattered. If Twelve had food and provisions in abundance, surely it could assist with trade between Districts. It would be a first, and a shift away from the norm of how the Capitol has run things for years - but why _couldn’t_ change occur? Why _couldn’t_ things be different?

A small yellow flower caught his eye, and he bent down to retrieve it from the soil. He was surprised to see it was a lone dandelion, a weed in the middle of a field of flowers. But it didn’t look out of place; in fact it looked like it belonged. Like once upon a time it had been a slight glimmer of hope in an otherwise barren field.

Smiling to himself and twirling the flower between his fingers, he straightened. And found himself face to face with surprised silver eyes that had haunted him for nights on end.

********

_He tapped long, weathered fingers against his chin, their skin papery and thin from age. His mind raced, mulled over the thoughts that tossed and turned about until they were a jumble of words. He knew something was wrong, wasn't right, but he couldn’t place yet. Not quite. There were still a few pieces in the puzzle he'd yet to put together._

_"Crane?" He called with little inflection, leaning back in the deep, blood red leather chair. It creaked slightly, not from his weight, but age and decades of use._

_"Yes sir?" A man with slicked black hair and an elaborately sculptured beard entered the room, his posture straight, his arms linked behind his back._

_"Has there been any word from the convoy?"_

_"Only to confirm their arrival, Advisor Snow."_

_He nodded firmly. "Very well. I wish for you to advise me the moment our contact connects in."_

_"Yes sir. I'll advise you the moment our contact connects in."_

_Advisor Snow waved his hand dismissively. "Do not parrot my words back at me, Crane, just do as I say. Dismissed." He turned away, moving his attention to his projector, and the news footage he'd had on a loop from the moment the story had broken._

_There was something...odd about the goings on in Twelve. He'd been around long enough, had been curious enough, was knowledgeable enough, to know that strange things happened in Panem.  Strange, unexplained things. Unexpected things. Things that somehow happened on a whim. And sometimes ended just as quickly._

_He wanted to know what it was. Because whatever it was meant power, he was sure of it._

_And he wanted it. More than anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Thank you so much for reading, for your kudos and comments. You can find me on tumblr under sponsormusings, where I blog about THG, JHutch, Europe and fic updates :)


	4. Chapter 4

Katniss slid back under the fence, the wires at the bottom catching slightly on the frayed hem of her worn pants. She carefully reached down and untangled the threads before rising to her feet and slinging her old, tattered satchel back over her shoulder. She initially hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea of crossing the fence again so soon after what had happened to her in One, but her mother had been desperate. Four Seam children had suddenly come down with severe cases of chickenpox, and the witch hazel Katniss knew grew just beyond the fence had been exactly what they needed and couldn’t source any other way. So she’d agreed, had waited until the meadow had cleared of kids excitedly running through the flowers before slipping across the boundary. But she hadn’t lingered; the risk of sneaking into another District - especially now, with her wishes almost granted - was no longer necessary.

In the distance she could hear voices, a faint whistle from the mine that called lunchtime. In this part of the meadow the sunflowers towered above her head, their faces turned to the sun at least 6 feet off the ground. She found she liked it, found she could hide in their long leaves and slim stalks and not worry about being found. It was a welcome relief from feeling as though everyone was staring at her, that somehow everyone knew she was responsible for what was happening. And even though she knew it wasn't true, she still couldn't help but feel that way. _The guilt of holding a secret she couldn’t tell anyone_.

The breeze around her was slight but refreshingly cool; it carried the faint smell from the sunflowers through the air, and something else familiar that she couldn't immediately identify.  She inhaled deeply, hoping she'd be able to recognise it, and changed her direction, towards her house and the edge of the Seam. And pulled up abruptly at the body bent over at the waist in front of her.

Whoever he was, the first thing she noticed was the broad shoulders and a head full of tousled blond hair, then the strong arms and long fingers that were digging in the dirt. But the man’s clothes were good quality, too good for even a Merchant, and she wondered where the hell he'd come from. And then he straightened, a small yellow weed twirling in his fingers; her mouth dropped open.

_What was Peeta Mellark - no, your future King, Katniss, remember that! - doing in District Twelve?_

"Wha-what are you...you doing here?" She stammered, sliding her bag behind her back out of habit, out of his line of sight. She watched as his own eyes widened and brightened, as they filled with something she couldn't identify.

"Katniss!" He exclaimed. _He actually remembered her name?_ "I was hoping I would see you here!"

"What? Why?" She replied, confused, and then pulled herself up. "I'm sorry Your Highness, I shouldn't question you." _Why was he here? What did he want? Had the King and Queen sent him here to demand better punishment for her crime in One?_

He waved a hand and then glanced over his shoulder. He lowered his voice, so that it was barely a whisper. "Katniss, please don't speak to me as though I'm a stranger. Call me Peeta."

"I..." She trailed off. "But we _are_ strangers though."

"Are we?" He smiled slightly, the right side of his mouth turning up just a little more than the left. "I'm fairly certain if I was a stranger I wouldn't know that your favourite colour is green."

Her cheeks flushed - _like a schoolgirl, this was ridiculous_ \- and she steeled herself, straightening her spine. She cleared her throat, made sure her voice was firm. "If you've come for me because of what happened in One, I understand. Please just leave my family out of this."

"What happened in One?" He echoed, sliding a hand in his pocket. "Katniss, that matter is settled. There are no more repercussions from that night, I assure you." A strange look crossed his face, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. "No, my brother and I are here because-" He broke off as an abrupt call of _Peeta!_ echoed through the air and he looked at her apologetically. "That's Aaran. I have to get back to him. But I'll be here for two more days - and I want to ensure I see you again before I go."

"What? Why?" She asked again, realising how dim she probably sounded.

He smiled again, slow and sweet. "No reason, Katniss Everdeen, other than to speak with you a little more."

She watched him walk away, as the realisation of why he was here hit her a moment too late.

_Her wishes._

********

Peeta raised the cup to his lips, sipped at the steaming hot liquid. Following their time at the meadow, Benedict Undersee had taken them on a short tour through the district, and now Peeta and Aaran found themselves in the front parlour of the Mayor's house. His wife was nowhere to be found _("A headache keeps her indisposed, my apologies," Benedict had murmured_ ), but his teenage daughter sat in the room with them in her stead. No more than 18, Margaret Undersee was blonde and pretty, with perfect manners, and a smile that looked mischievous if you knew to look at it the right way.

Most of the meeting he’d been pre-occupied, his thoughts full of Katniss. He couldn’t believe he’d run into her so soon - the last place he’d expected to run into her had been in the middle of the meadow, but there she’d been, her braid mussed and a streak of dirt on her cheek. He’d wanted to reach up and brush it away, but he knew it was too forward of him.

_Even though he’d already kissed her, and had felt the heat from her skin against his own._

He breathed deeply, forced himself to focus on the conversation going on around him. “Has some kind of...marketplace been set up? If you have crops, people will need to harvest, it will need to be made available to the rest of the district,” Aaran was saying.

Benedict nodded. “Yes, this is all true. I’ve been in meetings with some of the town officials, and have begun to organise job advertisements to fill roles such as harvesters and distributors. The District itself is still quite poor, with not a lot of financial stability, so our idea was for it simply to be rationed out, determined by head per family.” Peeta watched as the Mayor swallowed heavily. “However…”

“Yes?” Peeta replied before Aaran had a chance to.

“We...wondered if it was possible to distribute to the Capitol, if we continue to be as fortunate as we currently are? It would bring some much needed life into the District, help us to perhaps have an additional purpose outside of our coal mining.”

Peeta could see Aaran shifting awkwardly in his seat out of the corner of his eye. _This is exactly what Advisor Snow was concerned about - a shift in the Districts_. _Could it really be that big of an issue? Were the systems within Panem really that fragile that a handful of new crops could bring the country down?_

“It’s a request that I can certainly take back to the Capitol,” Aaran finally acquiesced, and Benedict nodded, knowing it was as much as he could expect for now. Silence fell on the group, awkward and heavy, and in distinct contrast to the jovial tone of most of their time across the afternoon.

"Has Father advised you of tonight's festivities?" Madge - as she'd insisted to be referred to - finally piped up, folding her hands delicately on her lap. Her tone was light and carefree, but Peeta had seen Capitol politicians like Plutarch Heavensbee firsthand; he knew exactly what she was doing. Peeta looked down to the floor, smiled to himself discreetly. _Change the subject, remove the tension that filled the room, all with a smile on her face._ _If Benedict Undersee wasn't careful, his daughter was surely going to usurp him as Mayor one day._

"Not yet, Madge, but thank you for the reminder,” Benedict said gratefully, shooting a small smile at his daughter. "Gentlemen, long ago we used to host a Harvest Festival but, well, the tradition was abandoned. However we've decided to bring it back to the District to celebrate our fortune, and hoped you would join us in celebrating. It is nothing more than music and dancing and eating, but I understand if-"

"We're here, Benedict, and we would love to attend," Peeta interrupted smoothly. "Wouldn't we, Aaran?"

Aaran, who had two left feet, hid his grimace and nodded. "Certainly. I would like to go over some additional matters first though, if you don't mind..." He trailed off, glancing at Madge, who immediately understood his intention. She rose to her feet.

"I believe I will walk into the square, Father, to be there for when the festivities begin," she announced.

"I'll join you," Peeta said, rising. His two bodyguards stood to attention in the corner of the room, and he sighed quietly. " _We'll_ join you," he corrected himself. She nodded, and he followed her to the front door, out onto the porch; they made their way down the path that would lead them to the centre of town. His guards trailed a dozen feet behind him.

"Does that ever get annoying?" Madge asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow and tipping her head back towards the two burly men in white.

Peeta chuckled. "Considering I rarely get to leave the Capitol, I would take a couple of guards any day."

"Hmmmm," she murmured, nodding her head. "I didn't think you got out much."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Really? What makes you say that?"

Madge sidestepped a large rock that speared out of the dirt. "Well for starters we've never seen you here before. And you have a look of wide-eyed wonderment on your face at everything you see."

Peeta's mouth dropped open. Other than Katniss, he'd never met anyone who had spoken to him so flippantly, so devoid of acknowledgement of his status.

_He loved it._

"You're quite outspoken aren't you, Miss Undersee," he replied, his eyes bright with amusement. She shrugged, but he saw the smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

"Someone has to be. And you strike me as the type to listen...Your Highness." If she was mocking him, her tone didn't betray her at all.

_Yes. She would make a damn fine politician one day._

He followed her into town, and happily listened to her as she gave him a history of the District that he wouldn’t have found in any of Miss Trinket’s textbooks.

********

Prim and Jenny Waters practically skipped in front of her, despite the heavy cart they dragged behind them. It was full of oranges, and even from ten feet back, their sweet scent was so cloying that Katniss could practically taste it on her tongue.

“Hey Catnip, you think you could at least look a little happy about tonight?” She felt an elbow dig into her side, and she glanced up at Gale. He’d done his best to scrub every bit of coal dust from his skin, but it still clung in the beds of his nails, and still had a smear of it under his ear. She rolled her eyes.

“You know dancing and the like isn’t really my thing, Gale,” she muttered. She hadn’t been looking forward to it since the moment Mayor Undersee had announced the Harvest Festival two days before.

“Yeah, but think of the reason behind it,” he said. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him so enthusiastic. “All the food the District has, Katniss. I don’t have to work my ass off in the mine to get shitty pay to afford wild dog stew in the Hob any more, you don’t have to try and scavenge whatever sneaks into our side of the fence! Why shouldn’t we celebrate?”

Katniss shrugged - she couldn’t very well tell him that she was still worried people would find out the truth, and that she simply felt better being away from everyone. “I get it, I do. I just…”

“Look,” Gale interrupted. “Just look like you’re enjoying yourself for Prim’s sake, ok? She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Hell, even your Mom looks like she’s alive for once.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Alice and Gale’s mother, Hazel, walked behind them, heads close in conversation as they laughed together. “And mine...I haven’t seen her smile this much since before Dad died.”

“Me too,” Katniss murmured, and she knew he was right. She didn’t have to like it - but she could at least put a smile on her face and pretend. Everyone else in the district _deserved_ a celebration like this, after everything they’d gone through over the years - famine, drought, mine collapses, untreatable diseases, death.

The rest of their walk from the Seam into town was quiet, but the sounds of jubilation around them from others making their way there was enough to fill the silence. The noise increased as they turned the final corner into the town centre, and Katniss’ mouth dropped open at the sight in front of her.

Small lights were strung up from building to building, creating a canopy of stars across the square - _where they came from, Katniss had no idea_ \- and Donny Cartwright and Ellis Shorncliffe had set up in the corner near the cobblers storefront, testing the strings on fiddles they hadn’t used in years. The centre itself was empty, with long trestle tables lining the edges, all piled high with fruits and vegetables Katniss could only ever have imagined in her wildest dreams. She saw that Sae had set up her makeshift kitchen from Hob - a black market on the outer edges of the Seam - and the smell of roasting meat wafted in Katniss’ direction. Her mouth watered.

“I’m, uh, gonna head off,” Gale mumbled to her after a moment. “Madge is here already.”

“Yeah yeah,” she rolled her eyes, but grinned, giving him a shove in the direction of the Mayor’s daughter. For many years, the town/seam social divide had discouraged fraternisation between the two - Merchants liked to look down their nose at those from the Seam, and those from the Seam resented the Merchants for their snobbery and the sheer fact they were able to afford to put food on their table.

The end of the Hunger Games years before had begun to thaw the divide, but it hadn’t been until the entire district had begun to be affected by dwindling food and an increase in poverty that trivial things like that had begun to decrease in importance. Gale and Madge’s attraction had simmered for years, but it had spilled over the moment he discovered that she was as unhappy with the inequality in Panem as he was.

It didn’t take long for the music to start up, for people to begin to fill the square, dancing to songs Katniss hadn’t heard in years. Delly Cartwright sang beside her father as he played, was joined by Thom Backman, who Katniss hadn’t even known could carry a note. He segued into a bawdy tune with two of his crewmates from the mines, one full of lyrics that had most people laughing, but left Katniss blushing.

She visited Sae’s stall, and ate her fill of wild turkey, then gobbled down another of Jenny’s oranges. She never paused for long, winding her way around the crowd until she found herself watching the festivities from underneath the tree beside the bakery. She spied a blond stranger in the crowd, shifting awkwardly from side to side with Lisbeth Masters, the butcher’s daughter, and could only assume it was Aaran Mellark. He’d visited Twelve before, but she generally had never given much thought to the royal family. Not until one of them had effectively saved her life.

“That colour on your cheeks is very becoming you know,” a voice whispered in her ear, and she jumped, whirling around quickly.   _Of course it was him._

“Why’d you sneak up on me?” she snapped. _She hated being surprised – especially while her mind had been wandering to the dreams she’d had every night since she’d met him._ Peeta laughed.

“Well everyone else is out there having fun, and you’re standing here on the edge of the crowd, a frown on your face and a blush on your cheek.  I didn’t _mean_ to sneak up on you - you were just simply lost in your thoughts.”

She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly aware of the fact that he was perfectly dressed in dark pants and a pale blue button-up shirt. Only his disordered waves showed any hint of dishevelment, and even then it still looked immaculate.

She still wore the dirty, threadbare pants from that morning, and her father’s old leather jacket.

“Everyone else is dancing - why don’t we join them?” he suggested.

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t dance,” she said flatly.

“Don’t or won’t?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. _Dammit_.

Peeta grinned, the same crooked one he’d tossed at her in the meadow, and reached a hand out, knotting his fingers through hers. “C’mon, Katniss Everdeen. It’s a celebration. You should dance.” He led her into the centre of the square, and she was thankful at least that her cheeks had already been red _before_ he’d dragged her in front of everyone. Stopping, he turned back around to face her, dropping her hand and simply moving his feet from side to side, his hips moving slightly with them. She didn’t move at all.

“Katniss,” he finally said, exasperated. “No one is watching you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just…move.”

She took a furtive glance around her, and noticed he was right - no one gave a damn what she was doing. They were too busy dancing up a storm, or eating, or laughing, or playing tag. With a sigh and a shrug, she began to copy his movements, though she simply felt awkward, like a baby learning to walk.

“This is quite a district you have here,” he said to her, breaking the silence between them.

“It’s home,” she said simply. _Don’t trip over your own feet, Katniss_.

“But it’s changed significantly quite recently,” Peeta added, and she froze.

“Yes,” she replied guardedly.

“It’s amazing, really,” he continued enthusiastically, as though he hadn’t noticed her stiff posture. “I mean, you all just must be ecstatic.”

Katniss frowned at him this time - he genuinely seemed excited for them, genuinely seemed as if he saw it as a good thing. _Had she been wrong? Would the Capitol actually be okay with their turn in fortune?_

“We are,” she finally agreed. “We feel very lucky right now.”

“And that meadow is amazing. All those sunflowers…”

Katniss murmured in agreement, her shoulders loosening as she settled into the conversation. “Yes. I can see the very edge of the meadow from our front porch. It’s nice to see them in the morning.”

Then the music changed and everything inside her tensed again.

The song was slow, almost romantic, and she saw Madge and Gale begin to move together at the edge of the square. Watching her manly best friend sway on his feet normally would have been enough to make her snort back a laugh - but the nerves in her own belly stopped her.

Without a word, Peeta stepped forward, slipped one arm around her waist, landing his hand appropriately just above the small of her back and gathered her right hand in his free one, raising them to chest height. “You’ll allow it?” he whispered, and she nodded her head dumbly. With a smile he slowly began to move their bodies in sync with the music.

“Should...should your brother see you with me?” she said quietly, and he lowered his head slightly so that her mouth practically rested on his cheek. “I mean, after what happened in One?”

“You mean the night when I encountered one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met?” He murmured back.

She scoffed lightly. “You don’t get out much if you think that.”

“I don’t, you’re right. It doesn’t change anything about what I said though.”

She pulled back, and looked at him carefully. “For someone who doesn’t get out much, you certainly know what to say to people.”

“Mostly etiquette training,” he said simply. “But...I _have_ been told I have a way with words.”

“To say the least.” Katniss allowed him to pull her in close again, closer than he had before. Her chest brushed against his, and she inhaled sharply - she could almost swear she felt his heart thudding out of control. She closed her eyes. “Why don’t you get out much?” she asked. _Anything to take her mind of the way she was feeling_.

“I have a lot to learn before becoming King, so I mostly stay in the Capitol,” Peeta said simply, then sighed. “But I begged to come out here with Aaran on his trip. There’s a whole world out there, Katniss, and it’s new to me. I want to experience as much of it as I can, see as much of it as I can. After all, how can I rule if I don’t know what it’s like?” His fingers brushed gently against her spine as he turned them in a circle. “And if I’m being honest….well, I also came here to see you.”

“What?” Her eyes flew up to his in surprise.

“I haven’t...I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we met.”

“That’s ridiculous.” _No it’s not, Katniss. You have your own thoughts, remember?_

“It isn’t,” Peeta said firmly. “Back in the Capitol I saw you on the screen, in a story about what was happening out here, and it was like a bolt of lightning. I _had_ to come; I couldn’t not see you again.”

She didn’t know what to say - how could she? The future King of Panem had just stood there -

_The future King of Panem. That_ was precisely why it was ridiculous.

She nodded slightly to herself, thankful for the reminder. She quickly disentangled herself from his arms, stepped back even as he opened his mouth to protest. “You shouldn’t be dancing with me, Peeta. Look at how we met. I’m nothing but a thief, a Seam Rat, remember? It’s not right.”

“I don’t care about that,” he argued, his voice suddenly hot and determined. “You can’t tell me you’re not feeling what I’m feeling.”

“I do,” Katniss said quietly. “And that’s exactly why I need to walk away. It’s the best for both of us, I promise. Thank you for the dance.”  She turned and walked away and didn’t look back; it was better that way.

********

_He scoured news broadcasts, watched reels of newspapers - older and more brittle than even he - asked questions he probably should not have been asking._

_But he'd begun piecing things together, here and there, across the afternoon - a boy's disappearance, and a monkey that would only respond to the boy's name. An old woman, mute for years, suddenly vibrantly verbose. The abrupt end to the Hunger Games (something he secretly wished were still in existence, but he kept those thoughts to himself). The unexpected appearance of birds known as Mockingjays, the way Caesar Flickerman seemingly looked ten years younger overnight and hadn't aged a day since. The list grew endless. And every time, every instance he found, there was photographic evidence of at least one of four people._

_One of them, right now, was frozen on the projector screen in front of him. Lank dark hair. Rheumy grey eyes. A slight paunch and a flask in hand, in the main square of District Twelve. With a girl who perfectly fit the Peacekeepers description of the thief Peeta Mellark had let go in One._

_With a triumphant look in his eyes, Advisor Snow rose to his feet from behind his desk. It looked like a visit to the slums of Panem was in order._

********

There was one single house, next door to the Mayor, that was specifically for guests of the Capitol. It was small - it was rarely required for an overnight stay - but perfectly appointed with thick, heavy drapes, plump sofas and crystal doorknobs on every single door. Secretly, Peeta thought it was ostentatious and ridiculous in such a poor district. Publicly, he put on a smile, thanked the Mayor and retired to his room. The night had left him exhausted, and even the feel of Katniss in his arms and her warm breath on his cheek couldn’t invigorate him right now. The way they’d parted weighed too heavily on him, the way she’d walked away without even a second glance.

Stripping off his shirt, he crossed to the small powder room, splashed his face, brushed his teeth until his mouth frothed with white bubbles. He rinsed, then turned back to his room, running his hands through his hair until it almost stood on end. He was surprised to see Aaran perched on the corner of the bed, his comm screen in his hands and wariness clear on his face.

"What's up? Mom bothering you again?" Peeta asked. He nodded to the screen while he stepped towards the small suitcase he'd packed and pulled out a pair of long, soft cotton pants. "Aaran?"

"Who was that girl you were dancing with tonight?" Aaran asked abruptly.

Peeta stopped in the process of pulling off the slacks he wore, one leg still confined in the fabric. "I danced with a few of the local girls, as did you," he said smoothly. "Why do you ask?" He finished taking the pants off, and threw them across the back of a velvet armchair, slipping his sleep pants on. Aaran hadn't budged, still continued to stare down at the screen. Peeta folded his arms across his bare chest. "Aaran?"

Finally his brother looked up, an odd look on his face. "There was only one girl you danced with, Peeta, anyone could see it. The others were just an obligation. Who is she?"

Peeta sighed. _Had it really been that obvious?_ "Her name is Katniss," he murmured sadly.

"And you've met her before," Aaran surmised, his eyes shrewd. Aaran may have been a jokester, a bit of a smart ass, but he very rarely had the wool pulled over his eyes. "It's the girl you let go in One, isn't it?"

Peeta didn’t say anything for a moment, instead weighing his options against telling the truth or not. But while he and Aaran occasionally kept things from each other, they never lied. "Yes," he said finally.

Aaran sighed. "Then that may explain why I received notice that Advisor Snow is arriving by hovercraft first thing in the morning - and the photographic reason was this." He turned his screen around, and clear as day Peeta could see an image of Katniss and Haymitch Abernathy in the square, the same image he'd spied on the news broadcast that had inspired him to come.

"Why?" Peeta asked, his heart beginning to thud heavily. "I dealt with the situation in One, there shouldn't be anything more for him to do."

Aaran ran a hand down the screen, re-reading the words in the notice. "Apparently it's a matter of Panem 'national security'," Aaran said, then looked back at his brother again. "What do you even know about this girl, anyway?"

Peeta slumped into the armchair, rested his elbows on his knees so that his arms hung loosely between them. "Enough to know that, once again, Snow is bullshitting." He shook his head. "You know as well as I do he twists the truth to meet his needs - you've seen it, Ethen's seen it. Mother has, but she encourages it. It's only Father who is oblivious."

Aaran shrugged. "I don't know, Peeta. I don't know her. Why would he do something like that about this girl? Why would Snow even care about her unless it was for a reason?"

Peeta pursed his lips, unsure what to say. Aaran was right. There were plenty of things he _didn't_ know about her - but was whatever it was really that bad for Snow to come out to Twelve? Did he really need to venture out into the Districts, something the man hadn’t done for as long as Peeta had known him? He wanted to blurt all these questions out, but he knew Aaran didn’t know the answers any more than he did.  So he didn’t ask any of them, only mumbled an excuse that he was tired and needed to sleep.

After Aaran left, Peeta waited until the moon was a little higher in the sky and the house was silent save for the snoring that echoed up the stairs from one of the guards rooms. Only then did he slip from his bed, quickly dress and steal from the house into the night. It didn’t matter that it was past midnight; because if he waited until morning, it would be too late.

If there was something he needed to know about Katniss, he was determined to find out what it was before Snow got to her. And he _wouldn’t_ let her turn him away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for Peeta to realise that sneaking around Twelve in the middle of the night wasn't his greatest idea. The moon was bright, but didn’t light the area sufficiently, not in the way that he was used to, with the false, electric brightness at night in the Capitol. Most of the roads here weren't paved, and of those that were, they were almost as rocky and uneven as the dirt paths. Plus, he had no idea where Katniss lived other than in the Seam quarter, and that she could see the corner of the meadow from her front porch.

_You're a genius, Peeta,_ he thought sarcastically. _At least twenty houses around the Seam could see the meadow. This is the best idea you’ve ever had._

Shivering slightly, he pulled his jacket a little closer around him - it was colder here than in the Capitol too, by at least five degrees - and focused on the path ahead. It didn't matter if he just had to sit outside on the edge of the meadow, wait for the sun to rise and people to wake so he could ask them where she lived. All that mattered is that he got to Katniss before Advisor Snow did.

The further he moved into the Seam area, though, the more shocked he became by the state of it. Even in the dead of night this quarter of Twelve looked rundown, and the romantic whimsy of the moonlight couldn't hide the fact that the houses had seen better days; fences with broken palings, darkened windows with cracked panes, roofs that sagged under age and disrepair. It was in stark contrast to the Merchant part of town, and miles away from the grandeur of the Capitol. He vaguely wondered why nothing had ever been done to rectify it, why his father had never stepped in and tried to help. And knew it would be one of the first things he discussed with the King upon his return.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he looked ahead down the street, and was surprised to see a figure seated on a porch a few houses up, their knees pulled up to their chin, their arms wrapped around their legs. With an almost silent yelp of jubilation, he headed straight for them, hoping they could give him a quick answer as to where he could find the Everdeen house.

Although as he got closer, he realised he should have known. Everything that had happened so far had happened this way; inadvertently, almost by accident.

_It was her._

Her head whipped around in surprise - he knew he wasn’t light on his feet, and in the middle of the night, the sound of his footsteps would be heightened - and she rose unsteadily to her feet. "Your Highness?" She called incredulously.

With a grimace at her use of the salutation, Peeta stepped off the path and down the short dirt track that led to her porch. "Please, I already told you not to call me that, Katniss."

She shrugged, positioned herself firmly at the top of the steps. "What are you doing? Should you even be out here?"

"No," he admitted. "What are _you_ doing outside? It’s late."

"I _know_ it’s late. Couldn't sleep," she replied shortly. "But this is my front porch, so it makes sense that I'd be here." She folded her arms across her chest, and whether it was against the cold or a defensive gesture, he didn't know. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you out here? You know you’ll get in trouble again."

"I don't care if I do!" Peeta burst out, then lowered his voice. "I needed to see you."

Her face fell, and she looked away. In the dark, she looked almost ethereal - the moonlight striking her eyes and turning them silver, the way her hair rippled over her shoulders in waves, the way her olive skin almost shone. The thin cardigan and pants she wore clung to a frame that wasn't as thin as it had been the first time they'd met, and fluttered slightly in the breeze.

"I told you that wasn't a good idea," she said flatly. "You need to go."

"You don't understand," he said firmly. "I _needed_ to see you. You're in danger."

Katniss' eyes flickered back to him, and they were full of worry. "What? Why? What's...what's happened? What are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. You need to tell me." He held out his hands imploringly, and he moved up onto the bottom step. He saw her freeze in response. "It could just be about the incident in One, Katniss.  But if there's more, if there's something else, you need to tell me. I might be the only one who can look after you."

She scoffed. "I can look after myself just fine, thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Would you have gotten away in One without me?"

Katniss had the grace to blush, and bit down on her bottom lip. "I might have. What makes you think I'm in danger?"

Peeta took a deep breath. "I have reason to believe a senior advisor from the Capitol is coming to see you, perhaps detain you. As a matter of national security."

"Me? A matter of national security?" She curled her lip in disbelief, but he could still see it quiver slightly. "What a load of shit. I have nothing to tell you."

"You sure about that sweetheart?" The voice came out of the darkness, rough and aged like whiskey.

Peeta whirled on his feet to see Haymitch Abernathy idling up the path, hands shoved in his pockets, his feet scuffing against the dirt.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Katniss hissed.

"My job," he winked, then turned to Peeta, tipping his head slightly. "Your Highness."

"Mr Abernathy? Why are you still in Twelve?" Peeta asked, genuinely confused. He’d been unsurprised to see the escort on the footage with Katniss on the news broadcast; he’d assumed he would have had responsibilities to attend to while in the district, perhaps had decided to watch over Katniss for a few days to ensure she stayed in Twelve. But surely he should have already returned to the Capitol by now, already be back to fulfilling his regular duties? And why would he be _here_ , at Katniss’ home?

"I go wherever I'm meant to, whenever I'm meant to," he said blithely. "And I'm meant to be here right now."

"Your role requires you to be in the Capitol. You should have returned by now." Peeta said firmly, though a nervous squiggle had settled in his stomach. _What if Aaran was right? What if there was more to Katniss than he knew? What if she was in cahoots with this Abernathy and they...Oh no. Oh no._ He took a step back, raised his hands, palms facing outwards, in a gesture of peace. "My parents will not negotiate with kidnappers or rebels, if that’s your plan for me," he blurted out nervously, only to have Abernathy laugh in his face.

"Ahhh kid, if I wanted to kidnap you, I woulda done it a long time ago. No, this is 100% about her." He jerked a thumb at Katniss, who had remained silent during their exchange. Her eyes popped open.

"What?! I didn't ask you to come here - and I most certainly didn’t ask you to be my gen- _mentor_ ," she said through gritted teeth.

"Mentor?" Peeta looked from one to the other in confusion, lowered his hands back to his sides again. "What’s going on, Abernathy? I've come here to try and make sure Katniss is kept safe from Advisor Snow, and instead I'm being treated like a child who doesn't know a secret."

The older man lifted a hand to his chin, scratched at the coarse hair that covered it. "First, call me Haymitch. My last...boss called me Abernathy, and he was an asshole. Second, what does Snow want?"

Peeta shrugged. "I don't know for sure. All I know is that he'll be in Twelve first thing in the morning - for her. And possibly you, because you were both in the photo identification that was sent to Aaran. Aaran Mellark, my brother," he clarified.

"Ahhhh shit," Haymitch sighed, rocking back on his heels. “We didn’t need this.”

“Need what?” Katniss asked impatiently.

“Sweetheart, Advisor Snow is the last person you want to get offside. He’s a smart and crafty bastard, and if he’s coming for both of us, I can only think of one reason why.”

“Why?” Peeta interjected, and Katniss and Haymitch glanced at each other. He watched, curious, as they seemed to argue silently. Finally Haymitch spoke.

“Do you want to tell him, or will I?”

“Is it really safe to?”

“Do you trust him?” Haymitch asked, and Peeta felt Katniss’ eyes scrutinising him. He could almost hear her thoughts ticking over in her head.

“Yes,” she finally murmured. “He helped me when he didn’t have to.” She tugged on the end of her braid - which Peeta was beginning to realise was a nervous habit - and lowered herself to the stoop again. “What I’m going to tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Especially this Advisor Snow guy.”

“I promise,” Peeta said firmly, and sat down beside her. Haymitch continued to stand, scuffing his feet lightly into the dirt.

Katniss jerked her head in the direction of Haymitch and took a deep breath. “He’s a genie. And he’s been granting me wishes.”

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

********

Peeta’s face was blank, as though he hadn’t understood what she’d said. Though, to be fair, he probably didn’t. She hadn’t really understood it at first, either.

It wasn’t every day that someone told you something apparently mythical was real.

“I don’t think he believes you,” Haymitch mock whispered.

“Why should I?” Peeta retorted sharply. “Now you’re just mocking me, taking advantage of me trying to help you. Genie’s don’t exist, I know that. Everyone knows that.”

“You know nothing, Peeta Mellark,” Katniss snapped, tossing her braid over her shoulder in annoyance and conveniently forgetting the vow she'd made to herself while tossing and turning in bed to only ever refer to him with his official titles. _Maybe it wasn’t smart to have told him._

“Give him a break, sweetheart,” Haymitch grinned. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t believe a word I said at first either.”

Peeta shrugged. “So you expect me to just accept it, with no proof, no evidence? Without anything tangible?”

“You want tangible, huh?” Katniss watched as Haymitch took half a step back, twisted his wrist slightly at hip height. Light began to emanate from his fingertips, danced circles of yellow, orange and pink across the dirt before merging together in a perfect ball of pulsing colour. Then he flicked a finger, and it shot out behind him, across the meadow where it dissipated in a sharp burst, shimmers of light sparking into the sky.

Peeta’s mouth dropped open, his disbelieving demeanor suddenly all but gone. “I...I…” He trailed off, still staring out at the meadow at a ball of light that no longer existed. “That could just be a magic trick.”

Haymitch grunted, annoyed. “I didn’t pull something out of a hat, or say abracadabra, did I? You’ve been living too sheltered for too long, kid. Maybe you could just take a leap of faith like she did.”

“But I don’t know what to say. I feel like maybe I _should_ believe you, but...” The incredulity in Peeta’s tone was obvious, the shock on his face still clear as he turned back to them.

Katniss sighed. “Why would I lie to you about something so ridiculous? You’re telling me I might be in danger, so I decide to make up a story about _him_ being a genie? That’s stupid.”

“True,” he mused quietly. Then he looked over his shoulder towards the meadow, the question clear without words being spoken.

“Neither of us are lying,” Haymitch said, and Peeta nodded slowly.

“Alright. Then if it’s the truth, you’re going to have to tell me more for me to accept it.”

Pulling her knees up to her chin much like she had when Peeta had first come across her, Katniss explained everything that had happened since their initial encounter in the Capitol - Haymitch’s reveal on their travel back, her first two wishes, the results the wishes had on her family and the District. He patiently listened - probably a result of years of training and strict instruction - only nodding slightly here or there as she spoke. She was surprised, really, that he was taking it as well as he was. By all accounts he could have already run back to Victors Village, called his Peacekeeper guards, and had Katniss and Haymitch under lock and key before sunrise. But he hadn’t.

Once she’d finally said all she’d needed to say, she looked over at him expectantly. “So?”

He scrubbed a hand across his face. “It’s a lot to take in,” he admitted. “Weren’t _you_ overwhelmed when you were first told?”

Katniss shrugged.  “I suppose so. I was a lot annoyed by _him_ ,” - she glanced in the direction of Haymitch- “More than anything, a little wary of him. He could have been just some crazy old man.”

“Quit with the ‘old man’, would you?” Haymitch groused. “You got no idea.”

She rolled her eyes. “The next morning - after bunking _uninvited_ on my sofa - he showed me his book, which explained everything I needed to know. I couldn’t question it anymore.”

Peeta looked up at Haymitch. “Can I see this book?”

“Nope,” Haymitch said shortly. “Only the person whose wishes I’m currently granting can see it. Dire consequences and all that shit.”

“Oh.” Peeta looked down at the ground, then back up at Haymitch. “So you think that Advisor Snow knows about this? That he knows you’re a genie?”

“I doubt it,” Haymitch replied. “If you don’t believe it without physical proof or evidence, he certainly wouldn’t. No, I’d just say he’s...done some research. There have been others like him over the years, who’ve been suspicious of things that have occurred, but none have ever known our true nature.”

“Our?” Peeta asked. “You mean you’re not the only one?”

“No, there’s four of us, but there’s only ever one of us active at one time, so they can’t be...found right now.” Katniss watched as he slipped a hand into his pocket, fumbled around, then hesitated before withdrawing it again. His hand remained empty. “I still don’t think Snow knows. But he’s suspicious enough of what’s happened in Twelve; he would have done some research, would have done some digging, wouldn’t have slept til he found something. I’m right, aren’t I, boy? You’ve spent enough time with him over the years to know what he’s like.”

Peeta nodded. “You’re right. He craves power, sees knowledge as a step to power. But it’s never enough, he’s always looking for more. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never trusted him. He’s always looking out for himself, though my parents seem oblivious.”

“Your mother isn’t oblivious,” Haymitch muttered. “But it doesn’t matter. Either way, he’s coming, and we have to find out what he knows, but also keep him from finding out what he _doesn’t_ know.”

“And you can’t be here,” Katniss said, realisation starting to dawn.

“No, I can’t,” he agreed. “It’s too risky - I’ll have to keep an eye out from afar. The less he sees us together, the better. Unfortunately, sweetheart, this means I’m going to have to send you into this on your own.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Peeta piped up. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“No you won’t,” Katniss argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“I need to-”

“No, you don’t.”

“I-”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Haymitch groaned. He pointed at Katniss. “The boy stays, just in case. Because unless you wish for it, I can’t help you.”

“Then maybe I will wish for it,” Katniss argued, and he shrugged.

“Maybe you will.  But until you do, I’m powerless to do anything. For now, all that matters is that you try and keep him from finding out the truth, alright?”

She nodded, and fell silent. All she could hear was the faint sounds of breathing from Peeta and Haymitch, and the hoot of an owl from far away.  The weight of everything that was happening suddenly hit her, her bravado dissipating in an instant. The fact that everything she’d wished for could come back to hurt her, to hurt her family, to hurt Twelve, was like a punch to the gut. The fact that this man who was coming to see her was obviously dangerous enough for both Peeta and Haymitch to be concerned caused a frisson of terror to snake down her spine, one she hadn’t felt since she thought she’d been caught in One. She dropped her head into her hands with a frustrated moan. “I knew this was all too good to be true. I knew something would go wrong. I should have just said no.”

“Hey!” Haymitch said firmly, waited for her to look up. “It’s not over yet, alright? You’re a survivor, and you’ll get through this. I’ll be watching over the situation as much as I can.”

“And I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help as well,” Peeta said firmly. She looked at them carefully then; the grumpy, weary genie who smelled like liquor and the perfect, shining prince who wanted to save her.

She had a feeling the odds weren’t in her favour.

********

It was close to 2am by the time Katniss moved back inside. Haymitch and Peeta watched her go, closing the door quietly behind her so she didn’t wake her family. Then they turned to each other, warily sizing the other up.

“Thanks for the warning,” Haymitch muttered.

“You’re welcome,” Peeta replied. “I just...I wanted to help her, make sure she was going to be ok.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Haymitch nodded, cleared his throat. “You going to head back to the Village?”

“I guess I should. I’ll be here early, though. The earliest our other high speed train can leave from the Capitol is 7.15, which means I need to be here before 7.30 to arrive before Snow.”

“Good idea. I’m not happy that I can’t do anything more, but I can’t unless she wishes for it.”

“She might,” Peeta replied, and Haymitch simply shook his head.

“No. She’s already on the road to making her wish, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“What do you mean?” Peeta crossed his arms in front of him, tucked his palms under his armpits. The closer it got to sunrise, the cooler it got.

Haymitch cleared his throat. “When she’s thinking of her wish - intentionally or otherwise - it makes my link to her stronger. _That’s_ why I came by tonight.”

“She already knows her wish? Why hasn't she just made it?” Peeta replied, confused.

“She hasn’t realised what it is, not yet.” He shrugged. “I dunno how it works, kid. It’s just always been this way. Just happens. Not up to me to question it.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” Peeta said quietly. “Where will you go tonight?”

“Not for you to worry about. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Peeta nodded, then turned on his heel, headed back towards the Village. He only looked back once, but Haymitch was already gone.

********

He returned at 7:10am, according to the heavy silver watch on his wrist. He’d told Aaran he was going for a walk, and as his brother was the furthest from a morning person you could get, he hadn’t questioned it or argued with him. It wasn’t like Peeta was on official business in Twelve anyway.

Her mother and sister had already left for the morning, with one of the young mothers in the Seam going into labour the moment the sun rose.  If Peeta was suspicious that there were larger things in play that took them out of the Everdeen house so that they weren’t there for when Advisor Snow arrived, he didn’t voice it. Some things, he realised, he would just have to accept from now on. After all, yesterday he didn’t believe in genies.

Today he did.

Katniss hadn’t spoken to him much, had just sat on the sofa, staring into space. He wished it could be different, that she’d confide in him what she was thinking, feeling, but ultimately, they were still strangers. Sure, they’d already kissed, he’d already held her against him, he’d already danced with her, whispered in her ear.

But he still didn’t know her. Not as well as he wanted to.

The knock on the door was loud, a sharp rapping noise that was so hard Peeta worried it would cause the whole house to topple. Katniss turned to him, concern suddenly filling her eyes, and he reached over, squeezed her fingers tentatively.

“It’ll be ok,” he told her. “Your mom and sister have already left, so you don’t have to worry about them. I’ll stay out of sight; but if he starts to do anything serious, I’ll come out to you.”

“And say what?” The pounding started again, and she looked back in the direction of the front door before sighing. “Look, I’ll go and deal with this, alright? I appreciate you giving me the forewarning. But just...let me deal with it. You can go around there and wait in the hall that leads to the bedrooms.” She’d already risen, dropped his hand and headed out of the room before he had the chance to argue; instead he rounded the corner, sliding down to the floor so he was resting against the wall, prepared to sit and wait. And listen.

After a few moments of murmured greetings, he heard feet cross the creaky wooden floors, a clearing of a throat, a groan as weight settled on the small couch.

“You were saying you work closely with our King and Queen,” Katniss started. Peeta was pleased that her voice was steady.

“Yes, that is correct. They’re very interested in the recent occurrences in Twelve, and have sent me to look into them.”

“I thought that’s what the Prince and Envoy Mellark were here for.”

“Ah, yes of course. But they see this as such an...important event in Panem that it deserves as much attention as possible, and have sent me as well.”

“I understand, but I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“We’re just visiting with a lot of residents to see if they can provide us with any information, if they’ve seen anything different recently that they think may have helped inspire the changes.”

“Then I’m not really sure I can help you, Advisor Snow. I didn’t notice anything prior to the changes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There was silence, a shifting of feet against the floorboards. Peeta physically had to restrain himself from getting to his feet and stalking out to the room.

“Miss Everdeen, what can you tell me about Haymitch Abernathy?”

_A beat of silence._ “Wh-what?”

“Haymitch Abernathy, the escort for District Twelve - the one who returned you here after your _incident_. He’s been seen around the District ever since then.”

“Er, that’s right. I believe he had some...vacation leave?” Peeta dropped his head into his hands. Things were going pear-shaped already, the confidence in her voice slipping as Snow changed tactics. If she wasn’t careful…

“Vacation leave, you say? I think you’re lying.” His tone changed abruptly, sharp, cold and bitter. “I think you know something about what’s going on here, and I’m going to ensure that, one way or another, you’ll tell me.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“There’s no point in lying to me, Miss Everdeen. I know you’re involved somehow, and I want to know how, and I want to know what you’re doing.”

Peeta yanked himself to his feet. _No. He couldn’t stay out here, and ignore the fact that Snow was threatening Katniss._ With a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Katniss might hate it, but it would kill two birds with one stone - it would keep her safe, and keep her close.

Stepping out from the behind the wall, he moved into the sparsely furnished living room, where he found Katniss seated on the small sofa, three guards flanking the fireplace, and Snow sitting in a straight-backed chair, leaning forward with a finger pointed menacingly towards Katniss. Peeta kept his back straight, his strides purposeful, and she rose from her seat as he appeared, mouth already opened ready to scold him. The look he shot her was enough to stop her from doing so.

The looks of surprise on Snow’s accompanying guards, however, were priceless, while the man himself remained impassive, unaffected.

“Your Highness, what a surprise,” Advisor Snow greeted, settling back in his seat as though he hadn’t just finished interrogating a teenage girl. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Your itinerary didn’t include any...extracurricular visits.”

“No,” Peeta said smoothly, and joined Katniss in front of the sofa, sliding an arm around her waist. He felt her jerk in surprise against him, but she didn’t pull away. “Visits like this _are_ hard to include in an official itinerary.”

“Oh?” The tone was venomous, and Snow’s beady eyes had drawn immediately to the way Peeta’s hand rested lightly on Katniss’ hip. “And what kind of visit would this be?”

Peeta smiled, slow and sweet and - if Snow had looked carefully enough - calculating. “A visit with my girlfriend, Advisor Snow. You see, after the unfortunate mix-up in One, where Katniss was falsely accused of stealing bread, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. So we’ve been communicating ever since then.” Snow’s eyes narrowed, and his lips firmed. He knew, as much as Peeta did, that Katniss hadn’t been falsely accused of anything - but he couldn’t very well argue with the future King with others around.

“Girlfriend, you say?” Was all he said in response, and Peeta smiled.

“Yes. And we’re very happy, aren’t we, Katniss?” He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, even as she turned to face him. Her eyes widened in surprise, then hardened. Her glare almost seared straight through him.

“Yes,” she finally muttered. “Very happy. With my...boyfriend.”

_His parents were going to kill him. Unless Katniss killed him first._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, for your kudos and comments! You can find me on tumblr as sponsormusings, where I post snippets from fics, reblog fic recs, THG and other pretty things.
> 
> (Jeeno2, I still haven't given you dragons, but I couldn't help myself with a reference for you in this one too ;))


	6. Chapter 6

Even in the dead of night, she’d thought One to be bright - shiny and colourful and glittering, full of people with happy faces, full bellies and dressed in clothing spun with the finest of fabrics. She'd thought it the epitome of excess, of success, of getting what you wanted.

And then Katniss had arrived in the Capitol, and One had seemed like a poor imitation.

Everything about the most important city in Panem was a distinct contrast to Twelve. The streets gleamed so brightly they looked like they were brushed gold. The trees bore fruit the colour of indigo and scarlet and bronze, that were as big and round as her fist. Shop fronts were filled with jewelry - sapphire pendants, topaz encrusted bracelets, aquamarine hair slides - and dresses that looked as uncomfortable to Katniss as she could possibly imagine. Lights filled the sky every night, with a spark and a snap and a shimmering of glitter as they spurted up, then drifted back down towards the ground.

Katniss stood on the balcony of the royal mansion, studying the maze of streets and forecourts and towering skyscrapers in front of her. Thought about everything she'd seen in the few days since she’d arrived, the people she'd encountered. She wondered how the hell she’d even got here - then pursed her lips sardonically.

_Oh, that's right. She’d gotten here by a narrow escape, a bunch of lies and a genie with a fondness for liquor._

Running a hand along the smooth fabric of the raspberry-coloured dress Cinna - personal attendant to the Royal family - had gently insisted she wear to the Gala tonight, she grit her teeth and remembered the moment she'd been told she should go to the Capitol.

********

_"No," Katniss said firmly. "Absolutely not. I don't need to go there."_

_Peeta's eyes looked at her pleadingly. "Katniss, they'll expect it. I guarantee you that within 5 minutes of Advisor Snow walking out of here, he was on the comm to my father, asking if he was aware of my romance. And you know as well as I do that he knows nothing about it."_

_"You were the one who announced that," she snapped, "Not me. So you made your bed - lie in it."_

_Peeta sighed. "I'm just trying to keep you safe. You saw how Snow treated you the minute he caught a whiff of weakness when he asked you about Haymitch. If you're with me, you're safer than you can be here, until we figure out what to do to throw him off your tail. And you know Haymitch said we need to find out what he knows, and make sure he doesn’t find out anything more. The best way to do that is in the Capitol."_

_"What about my family?" Katniss exclaimed, lifting her hands incredulously. Her mother and sister still hadn’t returned home, and she hoped it was because the birth was a long one - not because of anything untoward. “I can’t just leave them here!”_

_"Do you have someone here who can watch over them?" Peeta asked. "It won't be for long - I promise. Just until we work something out. I know...I know that the Capitol isn't somewhere you can stay permanently-"_

_"No shit."_

_"But I don't want to risk your family any more than you do. So in the meantime - we'll make sure they're safe."_

_They'd gone around in circles then, for what felt like hours.  He'd suggest something so simple and logical that she couldn't help but argue with it. He'd blush whenever he spoke about their 'romance' - she'd remind him that she’d told him it wasn't a good idea from the outset, real or not. He'd gotten strangely defensive when he found out her best friend was a guy when she admitted Gale could watch over her mother and Prim - until she’d brought up Madge's name as his girlfriend, and the obvious tension in his shoulders had dissipated._

_In the end, though, she’d known what he’d said made sense. She wasn't safe in Twelve, not until they'd determined what they could do with Snow. Her family would be safer without her - between Madge and Gale, they would be looked after until she got back. And both Peeta and Haymitch - wherever the hell he’d gotten to - had better knowledge of Snow than she did. She’d really had no reason not to agree._

_Other than for the person who’d stood in front of her._

_She'd tried so damn hard not to think about him.  Even though he'd invaded her thoughts during the day and her dreams at night since she'd met him, what she’d said at the festival was true - they couldn't be together, so there was no point. Her best form of defense had been to keep him at a distance - and now they'd be anything but. They’d be putting on a fake romance - while how he made her feel was anything but fake._

_It was ridiculous._

_She'd been on the verge of reluctantly agreeing when his comm had buzzed and he'd answered it in front of her without thinking. The verbal tirade of abuse that echoed from the comm was brutal, and she could see the disappointment, the regret and - worst of all - the acceptance at the words that were so obviously directed at him. For bringing shame upon his family, for dating some thief of a whore, for making a mockery of the Royal family and everything they stood for._

_He'd apologised to Katniss with a red stain of shame across his cheek as he'd hung up, and she'd been horrified to discover that the person on the other end of the line had been his mother._

_Katniss had blurted out her agreement before he’d finished speaking._

_She'd arrived in the Capitol two days later, after Gale had agreed to watch over Alice and Prim while she was away. He'd been reluctant at first - especially when she knew she couldn’t tell him the truth, and without it, her story had been thin at best - but what she'd told him had been enough to keep him mollified. She’d told him how she'd snuck into One, how Peeta had saved her, how she was doing this as a 'favour' to get back at his evil witch of a mother._

_Which, to an extent, was the truth. She'd not been able to get the words the Queen had spewed out to the future King - her own son - out of her head. And so Katniss had known that whatever she could do to piss that woman off, she would._

_She’d not expected the level of attention her arrival had received. Crowds had lined the streets, peering curiously into the town car that had retrieved her from the train station. Peeta and Aaran had waited at the front steps of the mansion, and the moment Peeta’s hand had reached for hers to help her from the car, lights had flashed, bulbs had popped. The image of herself and Peeta standing beside the car, hands entwined, had been on the front page of Panem’s electronic newspaper the next day._

_Katniss hadn’t come out of her elegantly appointed room for an hour after she saw the picture._

_They’d met with his parents that night, where she’d been scrutinised politely by the King, and less discreetly by the Queen.  The story of her now ‘accidental’ arrest was embellished upon, as was their non-existent romance conducted by comms and electronic mail. They’d smiled at each other, held hands when required, made small talk._

_And all the while Katniss wondered whether this would even help them in the long run. Haymitch had virtually disappeared, and Advisor Snow had kept a relative distance since her arrival. It didn’t stop her from feeling his dark eyes on her every time they were in the same room, and she knew he was just waiting for the moment. Waiting for the moment she was alone, and he could interrogate her again. And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would tell him. After all, Katniss Everdeen couldn’t lie her way out of a paper bag._

********

Her back was bare to the waist, save for two thin straps that curved over her shoulders and criss-crossed once before linking with the slinky material that started  at the small of her back. The skirt shifted in the warm breeze, waving and twisting behind her like a raspberry whirl. Her hair had been blown into large, smooth waves that had been artfully styled over one shoulder, a large diamond winking from the ear he could see. Everything about her took his breath away, and he knew that although he’d brought her to the Capitol for all the right reasons - keeping her safe, keeping her family protected - he also knew that, selfishly, he was thrilled to have her here. It might only be pretend, it might only be a charade, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t _hope_. Even a little bit.

“Katniss?” Peeta finally said softly, and she turned, the moonlight glinting off the smooth olive skin of her bare shoulder. He’d stare at her like this all night if he could, but he knew they didn’t _have_ all night. For some reason, everything in his being told him time was short for them.

“Is it time?” she asked. He nodded, rested a hand against the doorframe.

“Most of the guests have arrived. We just have to get ready to make our entrance.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Our _entrance_ ,” she echoed, and he could hear the sarcasm in her tone. “Geez, Peeta, how do you even live this life?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s not that bad, in the grand scheme of things. We never go without.”

Her eyes darkened, the amusement in them fled. “No, you don’t,” she replied.

Peeta held up a hand in supplication. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Katniss. But even though I don’t go without, it doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to those who do. That’s one of the-” A throat clearing behind them interrupted Peeta, and they both turned to see one of the housemaids - _Lavinia_ , _Peeta reminded himself_ \- waiting patiently. She didn’t say anything, but Peeta knew what she was there for.

“We need to go,” he told Katniss, and she nodded. He held his elbow out to her, and she took it with only the slightest hesitation.

He wished there was no hesitation at all.

They made their way down the halls, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath their feet. He stopped himself - numerous times - from breathing in her scent deeply. Even here she still smelt like rain and grass and wood - everything the Capitol was not.

"What’s tonight for again?" Katniss asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

"The Gala?" Peeta clarified. She nodded. "We have one every year to celebrate our history. You just happened to be in town for it."

"Which I'm sure your mother is thrilled about," Katniss said wryly. He winced - Deliah hadn’t been backwards in coming forwards about her utter distaste with the whole situation. He still wasn’t sure how she’d not completely refused to allow Katniss to attend.

“Don’t worry about her,” Peeta assured her. “I learnt a long time ago that she’ll never be happy with anything I do.”

“But you’re going to be King one day,” she reminded him.

“And that’s precisely one of the things she hates,” he said, and though he said it blithely, it was something that cut him to the bone. Not even a decision by the scrolls could assuage her thoughts that her youngest son was anything more than a failure, and she reminded him of it as often as he could.

His announcement that he was going to bring Katniss back to the Capitol hadn’t been met joyfully - by any of his family. Aaran was resigned. His father, while curious, was also cautious. His mother had explicitly told him what she thought about Katniss, about _them_ , and had left no margin for error in mistaking her opinion. She hated everything about it, reminded him that they would only cater to this 'whim' for so long until he had to make a more 'appropriate' decision.

They turned the next corner to see his family waiting at the top of the staircase, strains of music floating up the stairs. Cinna had outdone himself with their outfits - resplendent suits for his father and brothers, much like his own, a deep blue gown for his mother and a pale peach for his oldest brother's wife - but none of them held a candle to what he’d dressed Katniss in.

“About time,” Deliah snapped. “We’re behind schedule.”

“We’re fine,” Nolan said smoothly. He glanced at Peeta, the frustration in his eyes softening as he looked at his youngest son. “Are you good to start us, Peeta? You and Katniss alright to go down first?”

Peeta felt Katniss’ fingers tighten slightly on his arm, and he reached up, covered her hand with his. “Yes. We’re good to go first.” He turned his head slightly, caught her eye, then led them to the top of the stairs. “You alright?” He whispered.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” she muttered.

“I know. It’ll be over soon, though, and you can go back home to your mom and Prim.” And even though he said the words to reassure her, it made his own heart drop.

He hated the thought of not being with her.

********

_“She’s quite plain.”_

_“Oh yes, I thought the same! At least her hair is pretty.”_

_“And I suppose we all can’t be lucky enough to wear a dress especially designed by Cinna.”_

_“Or to kiss His Highness. I wouldn’t mind kissing that young man every night.”_

_“I’d rather do more than just kissing...”_

Peeta sipped at the champagne from the glass in his hand, and though he was nodding his head politely to the man in front of him - _Plutarch Heavensbee, a high ranking senator_ \- his attention was solely focused on the conversation going on behind him. Two women - he’d never seen them before, but assumed they were part of the socialite circle - had been alternately bitching about Katniss and describing what they’d like to do with him. While the second made him slightly uncomfortable - were they utterly oblivious to the fact that they spoke so loud, and he was so close? - the first made his blood boil. With their highlighted hair, caked on make-up and dresses that left little to the imagination, they had _nothing_ on Katniss, and they never would.

They’d made it downstairs without incident, and he’d made the rounds with Katniss on his arm before his mother had demanded his attention. Her glare at Katniss had made it quite obvious that she wasn’t wanted, and he’d reluctantly left her with Aaran before following Deliah.

His eyes now sought her out, and he noticed she was by the dessert buffet, talking animatedly to a man with straggly black hair and a grey jacket. He was surprised at the ease with which she spoke to him, until the man shifted slightly, and his profile came into view. _Haymitch_. He breathed a sigh of relief - he didn’t know when, or how, he’d arrived, and he didn’t particularly care. All it meant was that there was one extra person in their corner until they could ensure Advisor Snow would get off their backs.

He smiled at Heavensbee, nodded in agreement at whatever his mother was saying, and kept an eye on Katniss and Haymitch’s conversation. He took another drink, she rolled her eyes. She folded her arms across her chest, he laughed at her. Watching them was like watching two bickering children.

Assured that Haymitch was watching over her, he tuned back into the conversation, prepared to talk about something he didn’t even care about.

Ten minutes later when he looked over at her again, Haymitch was nowhere to be seen, and Master Advisor Snow was at her side.

********

“Miss Everdeen.”

His voice was like ice down her spine, and she swallowed the piece of candy she'd just popped in her mouth quickly before it locked in her throat. She pivoted on her foot slowly, cursing Haymitch for leaving her to go to the bathroom. The last thing she wanted was to have to speak to _him_. _Snow. Again._

Taking a deep breath, Katniss tipped her head slightly. “Master Advisor Snow.”

His eyes were still as dark and emotionless as she remembered, his beard and hair as white as his name. “How nice to see you again.”

Katniss nodded - she certainly couldn’t reciprocate, and the last thing she felt like doing was lying again.

He raised an eyebrow. “Such a surprise to see you here in the Capitol. I didn’t think you would venture out of Twelve...again.”

Katniss coughed lightly. “I, uh...Peeta thought it would be a good idea for me to meet his family.”

Snow chuckled, tugged at the cuffs of his jacket. “Of course. I’m sure the Queen was _very_ enthusiastic to meet you.”

“Yes she was,” Katniss retorted, although they both knew she was lying.

He studied her carefully. "You know, we never finished our discussion when I visited you.” Katniss bit her lip, but didn’t say anything. He took it as an opportunity to take a step closer to her, so close she could almost feel his breath on her face. “I still think you’re lying to me,” he said, his voice lowering. “You know something, you’re involved somehow in those changes in your District.”

“I’m no-one,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling.  “I’ve done nothing.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe you. There’s something going on, and I intend to find out.”

“What’s so wrong with what’s happened out there?” she burst out. “Why can’t you let us just be happy and have food for once?”

“Because, Miss Everdeen, that’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Snow snapped. “ _Everyone_ is to be dependent on the Capitol. Every District has their place, and whatever is happening in Twelve is doing nothing but upending that balance.”

“It can’t be very stable if a few oranges and some cows can worry you that much,” she replied, ignoring the warning bells in her head that everything she was saying was doing nothing to help the situation.

“Oh, it doesn’t _worry_ me, I assure you. I-”

“Master Advisor Snow, I must thank you for keeping Katniss company while I was indisposed.” Peeta’s smooth tones interrupted Snow mid-sentence as he stepped up beside them, a charming smile on his face. She could see Snow’s eyes ice over before he smiled - wide and fake and bitter - at Peeta.

“Oh, my pleasure, Your Highness,” he said. “She’s such a...delightful young woman.”

“She is,” Peeta agreed. The enthusiasm and brightness in his voice would - at any other time - set Katniss’ teeth on edge, but right now it warmed her from fingertip to toe. “I hate to interrupt, but I’d like to take a turn around the dance floor with my girlfriend. That is, if you don’t mind."

“No, no, not at all. I think Miss Everdeen and I have discussed everything we can...for the moment.”

“Good to hear. Enjoy your night,” Peeta said smoothly, took Katniss’ hand in his and turned her onto the dance floor.

It had taken only taken a matter of 2 minutes, but she’d gone from the fear of Snow to the complete and utter comfort of Peeta. And even though she’d been trying her best to keep her distance, literally and figuratively, from Peeta, right now, in his arms was the only place she wanted to be.

 _Dammit. She was in trouble. Not just with Snow, but with her own traitorous heart_.

His arm slid around her waist, his other threaded his fingers through hers and held them against his chest. His hand was warm and soft on the small of her back, just below where the thin straps criss-crossed, and she welcomed it.

“Are you ok?” he murmured softly, his fingers tightening slightly on hers.

“I think so,” Katniss muttered.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“You have responsibilities, Peeta.”

“And the whole reason I brought you here was to make sure you were kept safe and away from _him_. And I failed.”

Katniss halted her feet, squeezed his hand tightly. “Hey,” she commanded, forcing him to catch her eye. “You haven’t failed. I’m still alive, my mother and Prim are still alive, Haymitch is obviously enjoying the refreshments.” She looked over Peeta’s shoulder to where Haymitch was again popping small pink dessert squares into his mouth, and chasing it down with a clear, bubbling liquid. “If anyone has let us down, it’s me.”

“How?” Peeta asked incredulously, before looking around. They both noted the glances being sent in their direction. “We should start moving again. People are starting to look at us.” She nodded, and began to move her feet, but this time he pulled her closer, much like he had back at the festival in Twelve. Except this time all she wore was something that was thinner than a nightgown and everything felt a lot more... _intimate_ , and his body lined up against hers from shoulder to thigh. His voice cut through her thoughts, and her cheeks flushed. “Katniss? What did you mean by that?”

She shrugged. “If I’d made my final wish already, it would be over. Haymitch could go back to wherever they go once the wishes are done, I would have nothing to prove or explain without simply sounding like I’m crazy, and you could continue on as though you’d never met me.”

“Katniss,” he sighed, and began turning her slightly so that with each movement they made, they were headed towards an outer corner of the room. “You know I can’t do that.”

She scoffed. “Of course you can. Your mother has made it very clear you should forget me, and I can’t say I don’t blame her. We’ve already discussed this.”

“Discussed what?”

She rolled her eyes. “You might like me, Peeta, and I might like you, but it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t and won’t be together. It’s impossible.”

His arm tightened around her. “What if I’m sick of things being impossible? I thought genies were impossible, and they’re not, are they? Dammit, Katniss, my whole life has been decided for me without any input and I’m sick of it.”

Katniss blinked at the forcefulness in his voice, the frustration. “What are you saying?”

“What am I saying?” His eyes flashed, like a crack of lightning across a darkened sky. “I don’t _want_ to be King, Katniss. I’ve never wanted to. Ethen would be so much better at it than I would be, much like Aaran would be better at leading the military and I’d be better at being the Envoy. Why the hell are we, as sensible human beings, taking our lead from aged pieces of parchment? It’s ridiculous.”

This time, her mouth dropped open. Of everything he’d said, she could only focus on one. “You don’t want to be King?”

He glanced around them, then lowered his head so his mouth brushed against her ear. “No,” he whispered. “I don’t.”

“Then what do you want to do?” She asked quietly, and clenched her fingers in the back of his jacket.

“I want to make a difference. I want to make Panem a better place, but I want to _help_ to do that, not make the decisions. I’m not meant to rule, Katniss.”

“You told me you have a way with words, and I heard you speak with people at the festival.” She pulled back slightly, searched his eyes. “You _inspire_ people. Isn’t that what a leader is meant to do?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I want my life to be more than that. I’ve seen how little my father actually sees the districts, he hardly knows what they’re really like. He would have no idea what the conditions are in the Seam, and I don’t want to be the same way. I want to actually get out there, dig my hands into the dirt and to paint a house and plant a tree and look at the production lines, not sit in meetings all day and make decisions from what _other_ people go and see.”

“But can’t you change that? Can’t you change how you rule?”

He shook his head. “Much like how the scrolls determine who rules, it determines _how_ we rule. This is what I mean. I hate the fact that every element of my life is determined by something that no-one ever questions.”

“Then maybe you should,” she said quietly. “Maybe it’s time for you to question it.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it is time for me to rebel against it all.” He fell silent, and she watched at the emotions played across Peeta’s face. Normally he was so good at hiding them - she’d noticed that, even in the short time she’d known him. But right now, everything he felt was as clear as day.

“You know what else bothers me?” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“I don’t want to marry some Capitol socialite that my parents select for me, the best political match, like what they had. They’re not happy - they never have been, never will be. That’s what I’m looking at, Katniss, and I don’t like what I see.”

“Then question it, Peeta,” she murmured. “You want things to change, then change it.”

He hummed, absently played his fingers across the base of her spine. “I want to, Katniss. I’d change it. I’d change it, if I knew you’d change your mind.”

She did a double take. “What?”

He lowered his head down, so his lips rested against her ear again. “I want you, Katniss. I want _us_. I’ve just found you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You only just met me,” she muttered, trying desperately to ignore the flutter in her stomach.

“That doesn’t matter. My parents think they’re just putting up with a teenage whim right now. They don’t know how serious I am.”

“You can't be serious. This means nothing - you just told me you’ll have to have a political marriage,” Katniss argued weakly.

“Not if I rebel against it all, just like you said. I don’t want to do what they want me to do, Katniss, and I don’t want them to change who I am by making me do it.”

“And slumming it with a girl from Twelve is your way of rebelling?”

“No,” he bit out. “Don’t sell yourself short - _ever_. If anything, it’s you who’s made me realise that I can’t rest on my laurels any more, that I shouldn’t just accept it.” He kept talking, but Katniss couldn’t even listen to the words anymore. His voice was passionate, his eyes were fiery and everything about him was practically radiating with enthusiasm and life. _He was amazing._ And so she didn’t stop herself when instinct made her push herself up on her toes and press her lips to his. They were soft and warm against hers, and instantly took her back to that moment in the alleyway in One when he’d almost made her forget what she’d been doing.

He responded eagerly, his arm tightening around her waist, his hand clenching hers. She moaned lightly as his teeth sank into her lower lip before he swept over it lightly with his tongue. Her fingers slid up from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck, threading through the soft strands.

Peeta pulled away, rested his forehead against hers, his breathing rapid and heavy. “I need to be alone with you,” he murmured.

Katniss didn’t say anything. Maybe, if now was all they had - regardless of Peeta saying he was going to question it all, that he wanted it to change - she should just make the most of it. In all likelihood, they’d never be together like this again.

So she nodded.

She followed him from the dance floor, and felt dozens of sets of eyes on her as they went.

********

He slipped out the side doors, reached into his pocket for his flask and sucked down the remainder of the liquor before shoving it inside his jacket. The night had been a bust, nothing but a bunch of fancy-pants with their noses in the air and sticks up their asses. At least Katniss hadn’t gotten into any trouble - he’d been a little concerned when he’d come back and she’d been cornered by Snow, but he’d been glad to see Peeta come to her rescue.

Part of him wished Katniss would just make her damned wish already. Most people made their wishes in two days, tops. Granted, some didn’t put much thought into it - a new house, a new nose - while others were flippant, case in point the girl and her monkey boyfriend. But he knew Katniss was different, had known it the minute he’d met her; that she had the potential to spark something in Panem, to make a change. Her first two wishes had all but confirmed it, but as to why she was lagging on the third, he didn’t know. All he knew was that it was somehow connected to the boy, and the longer she let it go, the more Snow would be after her - and him.

Haymitch continued down the path, began whistling under his breath. It was late; most people were already in bed for the night, but there were a few stragglers making their way home from the Gala, or from other Capitol parties. But the tickle on the back of his neck told him something was off, something was wrong.

The black shroud yanked over his head as he turned the next corner confirmed it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I apologise that there was a little bit of a delay with this chapter, but it was for a good reason! I spent the last two weeks working frantically on my Everlark submission for Fandom4LLS. F4LLS raises money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society by releasing a collection of fanfics across a number of fandoms. There will be some amazing stories by authors I love, so I encourage you to donate if you can!
> 
> As always, thank you for your kudos and comments, I appreciate them all so much.


	7. Chapter 7

They ran up the stairs, twisting down corridors, turning abruptly whenever they heard footsteps or voices. Lights flashed by them, the sparkle of glass, and the scent of flowers that speared from towering urns.

_It was so much like that first time, when he’d led her down the alleys, through the streets, the scents and sounds of One following them as they went. She should have always known they’d end up here._

He swung them past a large marble statue of a king from long ago, pressed her against the wall just before two guards walked out of one of the side corridors. His breath was warm and hot against her ear, his heart thundering against her chest.

“Is there...is there any reason we’re running?” Katniss whispered, as soon as the two men were out of earshot.

Peeta pulled his head back slightly, grinned. “Adds to the fun, doesn’t it? Remind you a little of the first night we met?” She rolled her eyes at him - _wouldn’t admit that it was exactly what she’d just been thinking_ \- and pushed away slightly from the wall. He didn’t budge, causing her to lodge herself more firmly against him. He raised an eyebrow cheekily.

“Oh, so _now_ you’re not rushing,” she grumbled, and he chuckled.

“Just wait, Katniss,” he told her, leant them back into the shadows again.

The same two guards were back, repeating their previous walk, their footsteps heavy and in sync with each other, and she sighed inwardly. _Of course. He lived here - he’d know the patterns of the guards routines better than anyone. He probably had them memorised, after a lifetime of people following his every step._

Once the echoes of their footsteps had disappeared, he stepped back, ran a hand through his hair, ruining whatever was left of the meticulous styling. “I didn’t want them to see us, to send us back downstairs,” he explained to her, reaching down and threading his fingers through hers. The intimacy of the touch still felt odd, but not unwelcome. And she couldn’t deny that she liked it - she’d admitted that much to Peeta already, simply by admitting that she felt something for him.

And she knew she should take advantage of his touch while she still could, before proprietary and societal matches could intervene.

“Let’s go then, before they come back,” she replied, and he tugged on her hand with a grin.

She followed him, clutching the length of her skirt in her hand so as it didn’t get tangled between her legs. She was glad that Cinna had given her the smallest heels possible, allowing her to keep up with Peeta without having to kick off the shoes. And she was surprised when the small laugh fell from her lips.

_Even in the middle of everything going on, Peeta had still managed to find a way for her to laugh_.

She finally saw the two mahogany doors that led to the room she’d been appointed at the end of the corridor, and they ran towards them, Peeta spinning and locking the doors behind him once they’d run through. He leant against the gleaming wood, laughing as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m incredibly unfit,” he grinned at her. “Running isn’t my strongest suit.”

“Or it could also just be all that fancy palace food you eat,” she countered with a smirk, dropping onto a small chaise and tugging her shoes off. He laughed at her again, shook his head, then crossed to the sofa across from her, falling down on it in a heap with a sigh.

Katniss was thankful, more than anything, that their jaunt through the palace had somewhat broken the tension that had fallen upon them as they’d danced. Things had felt so _serious_ \- the way Snow had seemed so threatening towards her, when Peeta had told her about his desire not to be King, the way he’d kissed her and told her he wanted to be alone with her.

Even now it twisted her stomach in knots, and she forced herself not to think about it.

“Do you think the Queen will come looking for us?” she asked, tugging her legs up until they were curled under her.

Peeta turned his head to look at her, and a lock of hair fell across his forehead before he pushed it away impatiently. “Likely,” he shrugged. “They’ll go to my room first if they do. And I locked the doors here, anyway, so they can’t get in.” He grinned, wide and cheekily. “Guards will probably tell her we weren’t in my room, and that the doors were locked to yours - she’ll be so scandalised she’ll pretend it never happened.”

“What, she thinks all her little boys are innocent?” Katniss tossed back, dropping her head until she felt the back of the lounge bump against it. She stared blindly up at the ceiling.

Peeta smiled. “The Queen doesn’t take lightly to physical representations of feelings, or the implication of them. I’m not certain I’ve ever even seen her kiss my Father. And she’d probably have preferred it if Ethen, Aaran and I had all just appeared in the palace nursery one day,” he replied wryly.

“It’s possible,” Katniss shrugged her shoulders, enjoyed the feeling of the smooth velvet of the seat against the bare skin of her back. “From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t seem like you and your brothers are very much like her at all. And with ancient scrolls, and magic and genies floating around? These days, I guess I’d believe anything.”

“Like being whisked off your feet by a Prince?”

Katniss snorted, closed her eyes. “You might have helped me, Peeta, but there certainly wasn’t any whisking of feet.”

“But you thought I was cute,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied. “But in that moment, anyone helping me would have looked cute.”

She heard him smother a laugh. “Well I thought you looked magical in the moonlight.”

If her eyes had been open, she would have rolled them. “Have you been reading poetry?”

“Effie - my tutor - gets me to read a whole lot of shit, but poetry isn’t one of them. No, I’m just...telling the truth.”

She felt the colour slowly creep into her cheeks, and didn’t know what to say. Similarly, Peeta seemed at a loss for words, and the room fell silent until she heard the slight thud of shoes hitting the ground. It suddenly felt like there was no air in the room. “You felt something from that very first moment, didn’t you, Katniss? Just like I did. It was like lightning. After, I couldn’t couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Katniss chewed on her lower lip, forced her eyes to stay closed. Somehow, talking about this was so much easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “I thought about you a lot,” she admitted. “But I tried not to. You’re the future King. And I’m...I’m from the poorest part of the poorest District.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Peeta said forcefully. “You know I don’t care about that. I don’t know how many more times we have to have this conversation.”

“You might not, but others do,” she said quietly.

“I care about you more than any of that. It’s stupid and ridiculous and I know I’ve hardly known you for long at all. But I don’t even care about that - only you.”

“It _is_ ridiculous,” Katniss reiterated.

“And I don’t care. I just...I just want to spend every possible moment with you while I still can.”

Katniss swallowed heavily at the tone of his voice. It had slowly lost all the playfulness that had been there since their escape from the ballroom, and had taken on the same timbre that he’d had when they’d been dancing.

“So do I,” she finally whispered, and she heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Katniss?”

“Yes?”

“Will you come here, please?”

She slowly lifted her head, opened her eyes and looked at him. He’d moved so that he was sitting on the edge of his sofa, jacket strewn on the floor and the tie around his neck loosened. He rested his elbows on his thighs, his fingers looped together casually. If was only his eyes that gave any indication as to how he was feeling.

“Why?”

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Because I want to kiss you again.”

“Oh.” Her heart hammered in her chest as she took in his words. _His kisses did ridiculous things to her_.

Instead of waiting, he rose to his feet, crossed to her and held out his hand. Looking up into his eyes, she took it.

Peeta pulled her to her feet, tugged her into his arms so quickly she practically tumbled into them. And then he was kissing her again, and she didn’t have time to think anymore.

His mouth was hot on hers, much, _much_ needier than the kiss down in the ballroom. His fingers clenched around hers like a vice, and his other hand snaked around her waist, his palm splaying against her hip. She slipped her own free arm around his neck, drawing him closer.

She forgot about everyone and everything except for Peeta.

********

The pain lanced through his skull, shooting down his spine. He wanted to clasp his hands to his head, tried to close his eyes in the hope that blocking out the light boring into them would help the pain.

But whatever they’d injected into him made his body useless, nothing but his mind and his eyes alert and functioning to recognise what was happening.

_Dammit. They’d caught him_.

He’d been so focused on Katniss, making sure that _she_ was safe, that she was going to be ok, that he’d brushed aside any thought that they’d come after him. It looked like he’d severely miscalculated the lengths that Snow would go to to get to the bottom of what was going on.

Haymitch’s eyes darted from side to side, tried to make out what was in the room with him. It was stark, white, almost blinding in its brightness. A single silver chair was situated in front of him, where he was strung up by the wrists to the ceiling. His legs hung like limp spaghetti towards the floor, where they were shackled with strong silver chains, and he knew his eyes were somehow clamped open, could feel it from the way his skin was stretched, taut and strained across his forehead.

He didn’t know how long he’d been like this for - it could have been minutes, hours, days. He’d already had shocks of electricity shot into his chest, already had a blunt object jammed into his belly repeatedly, and he’d been in too much pain to even worry about the time.

And all the while, he’d wondered how the hell this was even happening.

Never, in all the time he’d been a genie, had he heard of one being able to be contained in this way. He supposed, of course, that was simply because none of them _had_ been tortured before, and he was the lucky first. But damn, he wish he had a guidebook for this. Then at least he’d be able to-

His heart somersaulted in his chest.

_Book_.

_Shit_.

He knew, even without reaching into his pocket, that the book was gone, that they’d taken it. And if they’d taken it, it only meant one thing.

_They’d read it_.

A door he hadn’t even seen on his quick study of the room suddenly opened, and with it the bright light shut off, replaced instead by a dim glow. He wasn’t surprised when it was Snow who walked in, and rather than lowering himself to the seat, he stood directly in front of Haymitch - so close, he could feel the man’s cool, wintry breath on his face.

“I'm not going to waste time, Mr Abernathy,” he began without preamble. "I read your book. A very...interesting read. It explains a lot."

Haymitch opened his mouth to speak - only to find nothing came out. _Zip. Nada. He was mute._

The smile - evil and cold and bitter - slid across Snow's face as he caught what Haymitch could only imagine was abject horror in his eyes. "Don't worry. It's not permanent, your...ailments. In fact, there's a good chance it will all wear off in about ten minutes. And I think you know why."

_He did. And all Haymitch could do was move his eyes up and down in silent agreement._

"Good, I'm glad you understand." Snow steepled his fingers together, pressed the tips of his fingers to the underside of his chin. "I never would have guessed, you know. A _genie_. How utterly fantastical and...unbelieveable. But I suppose for a country that stupidly guides itself from a set of paper scrolls, I shouldn't be surprised. I wonder, _I wonder_ what it was that made Katniss Everdeen worthy of wishes." He paused, and his dark eyes danced with  excitement. "Though that doesn't matter in the slightest anymore. The wishes are mine now, and you're going to help me, Mr Abernathy. You really have no choice in the matter."

It burned in Haymitch's gut, because he knew he was right. The book stated it, clear as day, on the second page.

_In the event that this history is viewed by someone other than a current Wishee, that person will automatically be granted three wishes of their choosing._

Snow pulled the book from his pocket, brandished it like a trophy."Now, once you're able to move, Mr Abernathy, you'll grant me my first wish. It's been something that I aspired to, for a very long time, but due to birthright, was beyond my reach. I wish to be King."

Haymitch felt his stomach roll and his blood boil - he could hardly think of anything worse. But the rules demanded it; he really _didn’t_ have a choice in the matter. So while he waited for his body to get its shit together and start working again, he thought. And thought hard. He wouldn't let the old man win, not on his watch.

He'd do whatever it took.

********

Awareness came first - the feeling of silky strands of hair strewn across his chest, a hand resting limply on his abdomen, a foot pressing comfortably against his calf from the leg that was flung over his own.

And he remembered.

They’d kissed for what had felt like hours during the night, until his lips had been swollen and his breath had come short. He’d shivered every time her fingernails had trailed underneath his shirt and across his stomach; he’d returned the favour by playing his fingers down her bare spine. And in the end, they’d simply twined themselves around each other and whispered in the dark, talking about their lives before they knew each other, told secrets they never would have told anyone else. For them, it had felt right to share them, knowing they may never get a chance like this again.

And while the teenage boy in Peeta may have ached for Katniss, may have wanted to take things further than they had, the responsible future King in him knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. Not now, not when so much was going on, and Katniss’ safety from Snow still wasn’t assured.

Lifting a hand to trail his fingers through her hair, he stretched slightly, and the sheet beneath him scratched at his back. His brow furrowed, and his eyes flickered open sleepily, gazed at the gilded ceiling above him.

Except it wasn't gilded. It was nothing but plain wooden rafters, similar to those in the servants quarters.

_What the hell?_

Rising carefully on his elbow, so as to not disturb Katniss, he looked in surprise around the room. It was definitely not the one they'd fallen asleep in the night before, definitely not the one where he'd kissed her senseless as he'd pressed his body against hers. Plain wooden furniture, a simple blue bedspread over the double bed, and a small window that let in a few rays of early morning light, basic grey drapes blocking out the rest.

They were most definitely in the servants quarters.

He turned to look down at Katniss' sleeping form, hated having to wake her. But he needed to know how they'd gotten here. Had he drunk more at the Gala than he'd thought? Had they been banished here during the night by his mother and he couldn't even remember?

"Katniss," he whispered, nudging her shoulder carefully. She scrunched up her nose and turned her head in response. And while that probably would have endeared her to him at any other time, right now a panic was rising in his chest that he needed to clamp down. "Katniss," he said louder, a little more firmer.

"What?" She demanded, though her eyes remained closed. "I'm tired."

"Yeah, well, I'm a little concerned right now."

At his words, her eyes blinked open, then widened as she took in their surroundings, abruptly sitting upright. "Peeta, what are we doing in here? Where the hell are we?"

He shook his head. "I don’t know. It looks like we're in the servants quarters - and I was hoping you may have been able to shed some light on how we got here."

"I don't have a clue," she replied, rubbing her eyes, before glancing around the room again. "I remember falling asleep in my room and then..."

"Were we drunk?"

"No," Katniss snapped indignantly.

"Maybe my Mom..."

Peeta watched as Katniss dragged herself out of bed with a huff, straightened the now wrinkled dress from the night before. She threw his shirt at him that he’d strewn across the foot of the bed. "Here, put this on. Maybe she did. And rather than trying to figure it out here like idiots, let's just ask."

"Ok," he nodded, slipping the shirt over his shoulders, and quickly buttoning it up. He still couldn't shift the worry that was slowly but surely engulfing him.

They opened the door, stepped out into the hall, made their way down to the entry to the servants corridor. He'd run through these corridors enough as a kid to know exactly where they led, with their myriad of hidden entrances to rooms, to ensure they were _'neither seen nor heard as little as possible'_ as his mother had always preferred. So when Peeta took the corridor he knew would lead to his Father's study, and opened the concealed door into the room, he was confused.

_To say the least._

Where his father had favored relatively clean lines and a nod to his past with his own Father's desk, the study was now a sea of opulence that not even Peeta was used to. The simple mahogany desk had been replaced by a much more ornate version, one with gold piped into the trim. The chair behind it was burgundy, overstuffed, and reminiscent of furniture he'd seen in art history books from centuries before. Even the inkwell on the desk - which had been brass and a little worn - gleamed with the sheen of pure gold and winked with diamonds. Something twisted, sharp and fierce, in his belly.

"Uh...Katniss, you didn't happen to wish anything overnight, did you?" He asked hesitantly. He watched as she opened her mouth, then closed it again, her fingers reaching up to massage her temple.

"I don't think so. I don't remember doing it."

"You're right, Miss Everdeen, you didn't. But I did." Both Peeta and Katniss whirled at the sound of the voice, found Master Advisor Snow standing in the open doorway, Crane close by his side - and Haymitch bringing up the rear, his eyes lowered in deference. His hands were bound by a thick silver chain, and even from the other side of the room, Peeta could see the stains of dried blood on his lip and on his forehead.

"Oh no," he heard Katniss whisper suddenly, and turned to see her face pale and her eyes wide. "You read the book."

Snow pressed his hands together in a slow, mocking clap. "Of course, Miss Everdeen. Last night, after it was clear the Prince - or should I say _kitchen hand_ \- wasn't going to leave your side, we had to change tactics. Turned out, of course, it should have been Mr Abernathy we were after all along." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, tattered book - the one Haymitch had told Peeta couldn't be read by anyone but the wisher, at the result of 'dire consequences'.

He couldn't think of anything more dire than what he was hearing right now.

"Hold on," Peeta said authoritatively. "Please explain to me what is going on."

"What's going on?" Snow smirked. "Oh dear boy, you _are_ in the dark, aren’t you? I read the book; I get three wishes - it states it explicitly. And my first wish...well, let's just say _I'm_ the ruler of this country now. Not your father, and most certainly not you. Nor that bitch you call a mother." He sighed. "All those years I spent having her on side, trying to determine how to best usurp this throne. And all along all I needed was a stupid book and a genie."

It was too much for Peeta to take in - he reached out a hand to the fireplace, gripped onto its mantel like a lifeline. "Where is my family?" He demanded.

Snow shrugged. "I suspect the servants quarters, much like where you were. I believe your new roles will suit you all considerably."

Peeta looked at the man in front of him - someone he'd known all along he should never trust - at the bearded man by his side gazing at Snow in adoration, and at Haymitch. Everything on Haymitch's face conveyed exactly what he felt - a combination of anger, guilt, reluctance, shame - but Peeta knew he couldn't blame him. He was as bound by his own rules and regulations as Peeta was.

_Or, at least, had been._

"You won't get away with this," Peeta said firmly.

"I already have," Snow shrugged. "And there's really nothing you can do about it."

"I'll find a way, I promise you."

"Oh dear boy...run along. Before I get bored of you." And while his tone was light, the look in Snow’s eyes was anything but.

Grabbing Katniss' hand, Peeta dragged her back into the passageway, towards the servants quarters, with the ringing of Snow's laughter in his ears.

********

It had been one thing to see Snow settled in his fathers study.

It was another entirely to see the King himself kneading dough in the kitchen, hands dusted in flour and tears pouring down his cheeks.

"I don't know what's happened," he was muttering, his voice breaking. "I got woken up by a banging on my door telling me I was late to my shift, and I saw the room, and I just...I don't know what's happening, Peeta." He looked up, his eyes swimming. "How has Snow done this? And how does no one except our family remember who we are, that we’re the royal family?"

Peeta shook his head. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"But..." the King looked back down at his hands, smooth from years of menial tasks. But there was a noticeable burn mark on the back of his hand, fresh and marring the pale skin. "How can Snow be King? The head cook practically laughed at me when I asked if I could go to my study. ' _Your study? You mean King Coriolanus's study?'_ And everything inside me wondered how things had gone to hell while I'd been asleep."

"Father, trust me-"

Nolan turned to him impatiently, the tears quickly drying as frustration set in. "Peeta, this country has been turned on its head the last month. First it was the goings on in Twelve-" he gestured towards Katniss, who stood silently at Peeta's side -"And now this? The scrolls never warned us of these happenings, but it's the end. Of everything. I can feel it."

“The end?” Peeta echoed. “Of everything?”

“I’m not King anymore and Snow is,” Nolan said bitterly. “Of course it’s the end of everything.” He began working the dough again, punching his fists into it harder than he should have. “And I’m a baker, for crying out loud! I’ve never baked in my life. How do I know how to do this?” He gestured to the loaves of bread already cooling on a rack.

“I...I don’t know,” Peeta admitted, and he felt Katniss’ hand slip into his, squeezing it gently in support.

Nolan shook his head, sighed, kneaded the dough for a few moments in silence. “You warned me for so long, Peeta. You warned me against Master Advis- _King_ Snow, and I just blindly ignored you. You have better instincts than I do.”

“That’s not true, Father,” Peeta protested. “I just...had more of an opportunity to observe from afar. And there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

A commotion behind them caused them all to turn in time to see Aaran stumble into the room, grass in his hair and dirt on his face. “Sw-sw-switch on the screen,” he gasped out, pointing towards the small projector unit in the corner of the kitchen. Peeta looked at him curiously, while Katniss moved over to turn the system on. It flickered to life, and the image of Caesar Flickerman, the host of the top rating morning news and entertainment program, was gesticulating wildly. Katniss leant over to push a few more buttons, and suddenly his exuberant voice boomed through the speakers.

“We just couldn’t believe the word from the palace this morning, folks! But I can definitely, 100%, undoubtedly confirm that the Hunger Games are back!”

Peeta felt his jaw drop, heard Katniss’ sharp intake of breath. They looked at each other in horror.

“I guess that’s wish number two,” she murmured, and his stomach pitched.

_Not only had he taken over the throne, but Snow had brought back the most despicable part of Panem’s history. On purpose._

He could only imagine what his third wish would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go after this!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, for your kudos and comments :)


	8. Chapter 8

"What has he done?"

It was Nolan who spoke first, his words barely a whisper. But they echoed through the kitchen as though he'd shouted them, much like it looked like Caesar still was on the projector screen they'd muted in stunned horror.

Katniss knew there were still some citizens like Caesar in the Capitol - those who had almost forgotten what the real implications of the Hunger Games were, what the reality was. They'd seen the Games as entertainment, as a fun way to pass the evening in front of the screen, not of children killing other children. They'd be ecstatic about the return of the reality program that continued to captivate even in reruns, 75 years after they had officially ended.

The thought simply horrified Katniss, not only because the idea _itself_ was abhorrent.

But because she and Prim were both officially of Reaping age.

"This is ridiculous. It can't happen," Peeta forced out angrily, and Katniss looked over at him to see his fists clenched by his sides and his jaw taut with tension. She reached out, smoothed her hand over his closed fist until the fingers loosened and twined with hers.

"How do you think you’re you going to stop him?" Aaran snapped, rubbing at his dirt stained cheek with his forearm. The calm and diplomacy Katniss had seen in him every other time she’d been in his presence was all but gone as his face set in anger. "Because the last time I looked, he was King, and we were nothing more than...than...bakers and damned farm hands!" He stomped over to the sink, turned on the tap and plunged his head under the water. He scrubbed at it in frustration before tossing it back again, an arc of water spurting from his hair like a fountain. He fisted his hands in the wet locks. "I’m useless, I can't do anything. I mean - how can I when I have cow shit in my hair, for crying out loud!" He yelled.

If Katniss had been in any other situation, she probably would have snickered at the Envoy being so utterly traumatised by something as simple as manure. But not even that could lift her spirits from what they were facing.

"It doesn’t matter about that - Peeta's right," she replied finally. "It can't happen."

"And Aaran is right too," Nolan said, a hint of authority still behind his tone. "Snow is King; he gets to determine what happens in the country. That's the way it's always been, and always will be. His word, with the guidance of the scrolls, govern what we do."

Katniss eyed the older man, disbelieving that his first instinct was to just roll over and let Snow win. Why wouldn’t he want to stand up for his birthright, his throne - his country? Why was he practically handing over the responsibilities on a silver platter to Snow? Was he just going to let his own subjects virtually be led to the slaughter for entertainment? 

She felt her heart begin to beat at double speed in frustration and anger, knew almost immediately that the words were going to tumble out. She didn't even try and stop them as she turned her gaze on him fully, her hand fisting on her hip.

"Oh really?" She retorted. "The _King_ gets to determine what happens, does he? Then tell me how you, as the _King_ , allowed Snow to usurp you? Tell me how you happen to be baking bread in a servants kitchen while he lounges in your study?” She felt Peeta’s fingers clench around hers in warning, but she didn’t stop. “Oh and maybe you can tell me what asshole King along the way thought the Games up in the first place, huh? If everything is always determined by the King, I guess we can put the blame of those on the ruler as well!" 

Nolan gaped at her angry tirade. "Now, excuse me, Miss Everdeen, you are a guest and that is no way to speak to your K-"

"My what?" Katniss demanded, interrupting him. "My King? Right now, you're a baker. And pretty damn oblivious to what's going on."

"Katniss..." Peeta began. She turned to him, eyes flashing.

“What?” she hissed.

“This isn’t helping.”

“You know what isn’t helping?” she replied forcefully. She pointed at Nolan, at Aaran, even while she kept her eyes firmly on Peeta. “Them being oblivious to what’s going on. Them not having a clue about what’s really happening. They should know.”

His eyes filled with apprehension as he studied her. "Are you sure it’s a good idea to tell them?"

Her lips firmed in a straight line, and she nodded. "Yes. There’s no point in keeping it to ourselves. It won't make things any worse than they are and maybe they can help us come up with a plan."

Peeta took a deep breath, squeezed her hand again. “Ok. Let’s tell them. Just...let’s try and reign in the fire to use it on who we really need to, huh?” He smiled slightly, and she felt herself nodding. He was right. She might be frustrated by the obliviousness of Peeta’s family, but they couldn’t help it if their eyes were closed to the truth. Like many Capitolites, they were blind to what they didn't know or understand. Snow was the real enemy here, not the Mellarks.

Aaran threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, drawing their attention to him. "What the hell are you two talking about?" he demanded.

Katniss turned to him. "I wasn't kidding before when I asked what King created the Hunger Games," she started. "Tell me who it was. What was his name?"

Aaran blinked, then looked away as though thinking deeply, before he looked back at her and shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't have to study that as part of my Envoy training."

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Nolan, whose face had grown pale. "Can you tell me?"

"No," he said quietly, and folded his hands in front of him on the worn wooden table.

"Why not?"

"Because...because I can't recall, in all my studies, reading a history of how the Games came about, or even how they ended. The start and the end just appeared in the scrolls. And I never felt the need to question it. We've never questioned the scrolls, or what was contained in them."

Katniss slipped her hand from Peeta's, folded her arms across her chest. "Well I think you need to start questioning things.Agreeing to children killing other children for entertainment? How anyone wouldn’t question that is ridiculous. This country has relied on those stupid scrolls for too long and it's time it changed."

"But they're what we use to govern this country. They _are_ our country," Nolan argued.

"Your country is currently being run by a psycho who got a wish fulfilled by a damn genie!" Katniss snapped. "And that's exactly the same way those games came into existence in the first place, and exactly how they've happened again. Not because of your dumb scrolls - but because of a real, true to life genie."

She stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, as Nolan and Aaran stared at her. She wasn’t used to speaking so much, wasn’t used to being so forceful. She’d spent her whole life just surviving, not wanting to rock the boat - and here she was, yelling and ranting so much like Gale normally would. She vaguely wondered what her best friend would think about all of this, when a peal of laughter broke the silence.

"You're clearly insane," Aaran said in between laughs. "I mean, seriously. Genies? Wishes?"

"Scrolls? Hunger Games?" Katniss mimicked. "I'm not insane, and it's true, and you're an ass if you don't believe me."

"And how you would know this?" Nolan asked quietly, his voice disbelieving. But there was something in his eyes that made Katniss think he was thrown by her words. That maybe, just maybe, she’d gotten through.

She sighed. "I know because I got three wishes. Twelve flourishing didn't happen by chance. I wished for it. And it came true."

********

Peeta watched as Katniss calmly sat down at the butcher block table that took up most of the servants kitchen and told his father and Aaran of everything that had happened since her deportation from One back to Twelve. Yes, she was caught stealing. Yes, Peeta saved her. No, their relationship wasn't real. Not...until recently, at least. 

Yes, Haymitch Abernathy was a genie, and was being used by Snow to become King and re-introduce the Hunger Games. Yes, the plentiful crops and livestock in Twelve were what Katniss wished for.

Listening to it again, Peeta knew how fanciful and unrealistic it sounded. Except he knew it wasn't either. It was real, and they needed a miracle to fix things.

Finally, Katniss was all talked out, and she dropped her head in her hands. "And that's it," she sighed. "You know everything I know. Now we just need to figure out what to do."

"I guess we need to get close to Snow," Aaran replied with a shrug. Peeta had noticed, as Katniss explained, that the steel had returned to his brothers shoulders, the traits Peeta thought were so much more suited to the military role their older brother filled eking through. It hadn't taken long at all for Aaran to believe; Katniss' no-nonsense retelling had been effective. She wasn't a dreamer, that was clear. And someone as matter of fact and grounded in reality as Katniss had no time to waste on fairy tales.

"But how?" Katniss replied. "I don't know where your mother and brother are right now and whether they're any help, but other than stalking those passages and confronting Snow, I'm not sure what else to do."

"The Qu- Mrs Mellark is in the laundry quarters," Nolan admitted, a flush on his cheeks. "Ethen was assigned to the gardens. Neither are in any better position than what we are."

"And I would bet anything that Snow will have those passageways sealed off as soon as he can. He'll do anything to make sure we can't access him without his being able to control it," Peeta added. He chewed on his lower lip, trying to think of the best way to get to Snow. The man's subtle but direct warning to Peeta all but indicated that if he stepped out of line there would be hell to pay. But if they didn't...the whole country would go to hell.

He vaguely wondered what other people were thinking, how the mansion staff and Capitolite residents felt about the return of the Games. Maybe, just maybe, there were others like them who thought it was wrong. Maybe there were others who would be willing to stand up with them...

The idea came to him unheeded, planted itself in his head until he knew there was no other option. It was small in size, and ludicrous in nature. And he wondered if they could pull it off, if it would even make a difference.

"I think I might have an idea," Peeta said hesitantly. "But we'll need Ethen. And...a lot of other people."

"Your mother?" Nolan asked.

"No," Peeta said firmly. "I get the feeling that no matter how angry mother is at being a laundress now, the idea of the Hunger Games is right up her alley."

Nolan opened his mouth, then closed it again before nodding. "As much as I hate to say it, you're right." He took a deep breath. "Ok, Peeta. Tell us your plan."

********

The moonlight shimmering through the bedroom window was scant, thin streams fighting their way through the small pane of glass and the heavy, serviceable drapery. It didn’t matter how many times he looked at it, how many times he tried to imagine it as the window in the room he’d grown up in, he couldn’t.

After three days, he’d resigned himself to the fact that his old life could very well be over.

He’d explained his idea to his father, Aaran and Katniss, as well as Ethen, who had willingly snuck away from his gardening detail to listen to whatever Peeta had to say. While at first they’d been doubtful, and in Katniss’ case, reluctant to let Snow have free reign for any more days than he should have, in the end, they’d agreed it was the only option for them. To spend the next 72 hours feeling out the other staff in the mansion, and in turn, their families and friends, trying to find out who was in favour of the Games, and who wasn’t.

It hadn’t taken long to determine that it was split fairly down the middle. Many older employees, some of whom originally came from outer districts, were vehemently against the Games, their anger almost boiling over the moment Peeta mentioned them. He could only imagine how those in the Districts were responding if there was this much unhappiness about it in the Capitol. But there were still others - like the young, excitable maids - who thought it was the best news they’d heard in years, and couldn’t wait.

The latter were definitely not the audience Peeta was looking for.

With a sigh he moved his left arm from where it rested against his bare stomach, shoved his hand under his head. His mind was whirling a mile a minute, and not even trying to focus on-

“Peeta?” Her voice broke through his thoughts, and it was groggy and hazy with sleep. He lowered his gaze to see Katniss looking across at him from where her head rested against his right arm. “Have you not slept yet?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.

She propped her arm up, rested her cheek in her palm. “There’s no point staying up all night thinking about tomorrow. We’ve done all we can, and if we fail...we fail. If we don’t, we don’t. Losing sleep over it won’t change a thing.”

He nodded. “I know, but everything keeps going over and over in my head...”

“Don’t let it. I know that I’m worried, but...I can’t afford to think like that. I have to focus on what we have to do, otherwise I won’t be able to function.”

He reached over, smoothed his hand down her sleep-matted hair, dusted his fingers across her cheek. “You should have gone home,”he murmured quietly. “You shouldn’t even be here anymore.”

With a sigh, Katniss flopped over onto her back, focusing her gaze on the ceiling. “We’ve talked about this already, Peeta. I’m not doing it again.”

She was right, they had. Moments after he’d explained his idea, he’d told her that she should leave, get on the first public train back out to Twelve, and go back to Prim and her mom. There was no reason for her to be the Capitol - now that Snow had what he wanted, she was no longer of any importance to him, and she was safe to go home.

In no uncertain terms, Katniss had told him she was staying, that she’d stay to the end. That out in Twelve, Prim was safe, her Mom was safe, the Hawthornes were safe. And right now, for everyone else she knew to be safe, she needed to be here, for this. To help bring Snow down.

To rebel against the Capitol, the very home he’d always known.

So while Peeta had wanted to argue it some more, thinking of nothing but making sure she was _safe_ and _okay_ and _alive_ , he couldn’t. Because he knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would do exactly the same.

In the three days since, she’d spent most of her time hidden in the small room that had been designated to Peeta. It almost felt like a closet, the dark walls, bland furniture and cold floor making it uninviting and claustrophobic. But without an official role in the household, they couldn't afford for anyone to be suspicious of her. If the citizens of the Capitol couldn't remember the Mellarks being the Royal Family, they certainly wouldn't remember Katniss.

Instead, by day she'd poured over the sketches Peeta had made on butchers paper of the layout of the house and grounds, making notes of entrances, and possible servants passages that hadn't been closed off - because, just as Peeta expected, any that led to Snow's private quarters had immediately been blocked off. And while Katniss had worked out the best tactical route to get to Snow's study, the Mellarks rallied troops, and a time was set.

By night the two of them huddled in his bed, discussing their plan, the pros and the cons. Eventually, it would always lead to tentative touches, kisses that had left them breathless. But they didn't discuss their relationship, rather dancing around it nervously, leaving their actions to speak for them. Deep down they both knew that if the things had changed so dramatically stayed that way - and Snow remained as King - many of the issues that kept them apart would simply cease to exist.

And because Peeta saw it as a catch 22 - a country run by Snow and be with Katniss, or the Mellarks return to rule and social obligations divide them - he knew she would be thinking the same thing. So they avoided speaking of it, biding their time with kisses that skirted over the edge of innocent, and trying to focus on the task at hand.

But at 2am with his hand brushing against her skin and her back rising and falling in sleep against his chest, it was generally _all_ he would think about.

"Peeta?"

Once again, his thoughts had taken him elsewhere and he looked at Katniss apologetically.

"Sorry. Let’s...let’s just sleep, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. She snuggled back in close, rested her head on his chest, and was out in a matter of minutes.

He was awake until the slivers of moonlight became rays from the sun, and resolved to himself that they would win.

********

It wasn’t exactly how she’d expected her trip to the Capitol to turn out. She’d expected lots of food, and awkward meals with Peeta’s parents, and trying to avoid Snow. Instead, she was currently slipping on a pair of pants that Aaran had managed to pilfer from the laundry room, and was tucking an oversized shirt of Peeta’s into the waistband. And while she wished for the bow and sheath of arrows that she’d left behind in Twelve, she had to make do with the knife that she’d attached to her calf with a leather strap.

Instead of simply visiting the Capitol, she was planning on actively bringing it down.

“Are you ready for this?” Peeta asked, moving up behind her and resting a hand tentatively on her waist. She turned to face him, noted the worn black pants and shirt he wore, the way his hair had been covered by an old, faded beanie, concealing the bright blond waves. His eyes were serious, intense, focused.

“I’m ready,” she told him, though she really wasn’t. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to her mom and Prim since Snow had come into power, and wondered if they were concerned for her, if they knew what was going on. It weighed on her heavily that things could go wrong, and that she’d never see them again. But she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She couldn’t stand by and watch Snow bring the Games back, and worry every year if Prim would be led into the Arena. So she stayed, and hoped that somehow, they’d know she was alright.

“Okay,” he nodded. “You’re good with the plan?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, running through it in her head. “Your dad, Ethen and Aaran are at the West entrance, and will come through the Gardens. We’ll go out to the service entrance, let in those waiting outside the East wall and lead those people through the old tunnel that runs alongside the underground level. We converge at the central hallway, and go for it. The others remove the guards and Peacekeepers on duty - no casualties - while we head for the King’s quarters and take Snow and Crane prisoner. Once we’ve got the scrolls, we read the pages out to the Capitol that dictate that your father is King, and that you’re next in line. And then the country has no choice but to reinstate you,” she rattled off, then sighed. “It sounds so simple when I say it like that, but I don’t think it will be. What if we’re rushing it? It’s only been 4 days; what if we haven’t planned well enough?”

“You said yourself that we didn’t want Snow in power any longer than he absolutely needed to be,” he reminded her. “We need to strike while it’s hot, while people are still angry about the Games being brought back. And we don’t want to risk him starting them before we can even give it a try.”

“But what if it goes wrong?”

“Hey.” He reached up, lifted her chin with his fingertips until her eyes locked with his. “Where’s the woman who was so insistent last night for us not to worry, who couldn’t afford to think like that?” 

“In the harsh reality of day, things seem a lot harder,” she admitted.

“Well they’re not,” Peeta assured her. “We know the mansion itself isn’t a tough nut to crack. It’s not built to withstand any kind of challenge - it was never expected to need to be. So other than the guards, we won’t have much standing in our way.” He leant forward, gently pressed his lips to hers. “We’ll be okay.” He began to step back, but her hand reached up to hold his in place, staring up into his eyes somberly.

“Peeta, if this is it-”

“No-”

She shook her head. “If this is _it_ , I just...wanted to say thank you. And that I don’t regret any of this,” she swallowed heavily, wanted to get the words out before she no longer had the chance to. “And if we are successful, and your father is returned to the throne...I’ll always think of you. And know what an amazing person you are.”

“Katniss-”

She cut him off with her lips this time, lifting up to her toes so she could press them to his. She tried to pour everything she felt into the kiss, felt the desperation in his own as his arms banded around her and drew her closer. She could almost feel his heart pounding against her chest, felt his whimper against her mouth.

Her hands clutched at the beanie that covered his hair, threaded through the few wayward locks that had slipped out the back. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, then laved across it with his tongue. She pressed closer to him as the kiss intensified, lips, teeth and tongues warring until she was all but out of breath.

And then she pulled away, lowered herself until she was flat-footed again, and rested her head against his chest.

“We should go,” she whispered. “We’ve got a King to overthrow.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice throaty and deep. “We should.”

They stood there for 5 minutes more, then headed to the service entrance.

********

She walked beside a man called Boggs, had a woman named Cressida in front of her. He was tall and imposing and worked in security; she had a shaved head tattooed with green vines and was an employee at the television station that would once again screen the Hunger Games.

Both had heard about the rebellion through friends who worked at the mansion, and had signed up immediately. Katniss hadn’t asked why, because it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that they had people who thought and felt the same way as them, ready to put it all on the line.

Peeta had tentatively asked people questions over the last few days, as to how long Snow had been in power - unsurprisingly, no one could say for sure, only that he had been the King for as long as they could remember - and what they thought of him as a ruler, to which no one had really had much an opinion. But right now, there was nothing but silence - no questions, no chatter, no conversation. Tension filled the air and a nervous hush had taken over the tunnel as they made their way down the old service entrance to reach the main hall. She only hoped that Peeta’s father and brothers were on time, that they were where they should be by now. It wouldn’t be of benefit to any of them if one group was later than the other. The element of surprise, the sheer volume in number of people, would be lost. 

She felt Peeta’s hand slip into hers, and she felt better, simply by knowing he was there.

********

"You know, Mr Abernathy, it's a real dilemma trying to decide what my last wish will be."

Haymitch's eyes flickered open slowly, and he looked over at the man who lounged on the brocade sofa that sat proudly in front of the crackling fireplace. Crane sat in a wire frame chair across from him, did nothing but stare balefully at Haymitch as he stroked the intricate beard that covered his cheeks and jaw.

"Really?" Haymitch drawled, trying to ignore the sharp spike of pain that shot through his arms at every movement. After 4 days being bound in chains, his arms were heavy, sore and the skin around his wrists was chafed. His body was weak from limited food, and no access to alcohol had him in the first stages of withdrawal.

He hated that Finnick, the genie next on rotation after his turn was complete, had been right. Finding an affinity for mortal pleasures wouldn't get him anywhere.

At least, he thought gratefully, he hadn’t been returned to the original room they’d kept him in. Although he wasn’t sure being chained to an awkward, straight-backed wooden chair in the corner of a room bursting with comfortable sofas and thick carpet was any less of a torture.

“Yes,” Snow replied, a small smile creeping across his face. “There’s just...so many options.”

“And so far you’ve had two marvellous wishes,” Haymitch said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

Snow coughed lightly into a lace-edged handkerchief. “Really, Mr Abernathy? You’re going to use that tone with me, in the predicament you’re in?” His eyes drifted down to the shackles around the wrists that rested limply in Haymitch’s lap.

“Pretty sure if you want that last wish granted, there’s not much you can do to me,” Haymitch countered.

“Yet.”

“Yet,” he agreed, then shrugged. “I guess you’d better get back to thinking.”

“I suppose I shall,” Snow said quietly, pocketing the handkerchief. He turned back to the fire, lifted a brandy glass from a side table and drank the deep, burgundy liquid deeply.

Haymitch had run a million scenarios through his head of what Snow would want, but still hadn’t come up with anything that sounded right. The man had gone straight out of the blocks with wanting to be King, though Haymitch was pleased that he’d at least had the foresight to grant the wish with the caveat that the Mellarks and Katniss would remain aware of the family lineage. Of course, Snow just saw that as a by product, not something that Haymitch had done intentionally.

Haymitch hadn’t been a genie for as long as he had without having a few tricks up his sleeve.

The second wish, he’d been blindsided by, and he hadn’t had the chance to even think of any way to off-shoot it. It killed him knowing what he would be inadvertently be responsible for, and he now knew what Mags had suffered through for all these years, when she’d had to grant the same wish, so long ago.

He closed his eyes, only for them to fly open again at the sound of an ear-splitting yell, a smash, and a roar of voices.

********

It was chaos the moment they burst into the main hall, at least a hundred people converging all in one place. The few guards that were in place were almost shocked into frozen silence, before they began reaching for their comms, calling for backup. It almost wasn’t worth it - people filed into the open space, ran along corridors, all practically before they’d lifted the electronic devices to their mouths.

It didn’t last long, though.

Guards - and Peacekeepers - appeared from nowhere, overpowering rebels with stun guns and batons. Rebels fought back, with their own knives or fists, as grunts and yells and moans echoed, as the cracks of bones sounded, as the metallic smell of blood began to permeate the air.

Peeta shoved his elbow into the stomach of a guard he’d known since he was a child, spun to see his father and brothers caught up in the fray - Aaran already had a split lip, and looked more than pleased with himself. But it wasn’t for him to get any more involved; instead, he grabbed Katniss’ hand, dragged her through the melee, and headed towards the quarters his father had once occupied.

It was quieter up on the third floor - the fighting hadn’t reached there yet, though it wouldn’t be long, he was sure. He could already hear the thundering of feet, the shouting of voices, the crackle of communicators. Somewhere along the line the power had been cut, and the hallways were dim, only the watery sunlight filtering through the gauzy fabrics that covered the windows lighting their way.

“What if he’s not here?” Katniss whispered as they rounded a corner. The hallway was long, rectangular, with an open space in the middle surrounded by a gold-leaf balustrade that allowed a view down to the level. Katniss knew, from one of the tours Peeta had given her before everything went to hell, that the King and Queen’s quarters were at the other end of the hallway.

“No one has seen him leave,” Peeta replied quietly. “Last we heard, both he and Crane were still in his study.”

“And Haymitch?”

“Apparently he’s still there too,” Peeta confirmed, and skirted around a giant statue much like the one they’d hidden behind only days before, but what already felt like a lifetime ago.

He felt the sting before he even saw the sword.

********

Katniss didn’t know where to look - into the beady eyes of Crane as he stood in front of them with a sword curved like the beak of a parrot in his hand, or down at the blood the gushed from Peeta’s leg.

She braced herself as Peeta’s body slumped, as his entire weight seemed to come crashing down on her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, tried to prop him as best she could, even as she swung her eyes back to Crane with a glare.

“What the hell?” she hissed. “Hiding behind corners like a little sneak!”

“Like a little sneak?” he echoed. “Who’s sneaking around the mansion unannounced? Who’s broken in to...to... _kill us_? You!” He brandished the sword in front of him, like a little kid who’d been given a toy to play with. “Stay back. I won’t hesitate to strike!”

“For crying out loud, Seneca, we’re not here to kill you,” Peeta mumbled through laboured breaths, as his face started to pale, and he began to slip out of her grasp. 

“Peeta,” Katniss murmured. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay with me.”

“I’m...not going anywhere,” he told her quietly, then turned back to Crane, even as he slid to the ground. Katniss dropped with him, surreptitiously slid her hand up inside the leg of her pants, closed her fingers around the knife she’d strapped there. “We’re just here to take back what’s rightfully ours - and to stop the Games.”

“Well you’re too late, aren’t you,” Crane replied, his own face starting to turn green at the amount of blood Peeta was losing. Still he powered on, eyes a little wild as he swung the sword in front of him. “It’s already done, the plans are already in place. You can’t do anything about it now.”

“We won’t let it happen,” Katniss snapped.

“You don’t have a choice. You should have thought of that before you made your wishes. Maybe you should have thought big like Snow did.”

“I _did_ think big. I thought of my District. I thought of my family and friends.”

Crane snickered. “And look where that got you. Trust me, you’ll lose here.”

“Oh, will we?” Katniss replied, whipping the knife from its sheath and reaching forward in one smooth move, slicing across his calf. It wasn’t deep, but it stung enough for him to yelp, to drop the sword in shock.

Katniss rose to her feet, kicked the sword out of the way. She and Crane circled each other almost like prey, both tempting the other to make a move by dummying to the left or the right. Then Crane finally leapt at her, their bodies falling in a heap on the ground as they rolled over the thick, patterned carpet. She could hear Peeta yelling, could hear the sound of blasters and communicators from far away. But the predominant sound was the blood rushing in her ears, her heart beating in her chest, as they grappled and fought and kicked and scratched. And then he slumped over her like a dead weight, and she looked up in shock to see Peeta, his hand braced on the wall to support his weight, a gleaming golden bowl in his hand, and a mass of berries strewn over Crane’s head and back.

Katniss breathed out a sigh of relief, pushed the man off her and dragged herself to her feet.

“You ok?” she asked Peeta, and he nodded.

“I guess Snow likes bowls of useless shit on the sideboards all around his mansion,” he said quietly. “Figured I should put it to good use, and connect it with Crane’s head.”

Katniss nodded, then stepped towards him. “You need to sit down again, let me look at your leg.”

“We don’t have time-” he began to argue, and she shook her head.

“No. I don’t want to risk you losing your leg, okay? It looks like he cut you pretty deep.” She helped lower him back to the ground, twisted herself around so she could grab the belt that looped around Crane’s waist. She turned back, ripped at the material that had already been sliced open by Crane’s sword. Under it, blood oozed, and while it wasn’t as deep as she she’d initially thought, it was still bad, and there wasn’t much she could do without any medical aid or even water. “I’m going to put a tourniquet on, alright? And then we’re going to go and find a bathroom so I can clean it out, and then I’m going to look for Snow.”

“Not without me,” Peeta argued weakly, even as she began to wrap the belt around his upper thigh.

“You can’t, not with this,” she told him firmly, then paused as he gripped his fingers around her wrist.

“No, Katniss. I won’t let you go without me.”

She glanced up at him as she tightened the belt, tugged on it once more for good measure. His eyes, though cloudy with pain, were determined. And while his face was pale, it wasn’t so pale that it moved him into worrying territory.

“Fine,” she sighed. She rose, then bent over to gently help him to his feet. He was finally up and resting against the banister when other rebels streamed into the hallway, Nolan and Aaran at the forefront.

“We’ve secured the lower levels!” Nolan called, rushing over to them, his eyes widening as he took in Peeta. “Son, are you ok?” Peeta nodded his head. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Forget about me - we should focus on Snow, getting through those doors to get to him.”

“You don’t need to fight through anything, Mr Mellark. I’m right here.”

They all turned to see Snow standing in the open doorway at the other end of the hall, head held high as he moved to rest his hands on the banister in front of him. Haymitch followed him out, his wrists still chained, and his face gaunt and tired. He looked towards Katniss and Peeta, a combination of relief and concern on his face as he saw them.

Shifting her gaze back to Snow, she watched as he stared at them, unblinking, across the vast empty space that separated him from the rebels. Katniss felt a shiver run through her, clasped Peeta’s hand over the wooden rung. 

“It seems you’ve been busy the last few days,” Snow called blandly. “Raising an army?”

“Rebelling against y _ou_ ,” Peeta retorted.

“You must be more persuasive than I ever thought to give you credit for.”

“You don’t need to persuade people when they already don’t like what you’ve done.”

Snow waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. People love the Hunger Games. They always have.”

“Not everyone,” Katniss replied.

Snow eyed her with a barely veiled disgust. “Of course you wouldn’t, Miss Everdeen. People like you...or your sister...are the ones likely to be reaped.”

“Is that a threat?” Katniss demanded, even while her stomach dropped and her heart thudded heavily.

“No, not at all, Miss Everdeen. Just an observation.” He scanned his eyes across the group of people. “Just like my observation that this is all just a waste of time. All that’s going to happen here is that you’ll severely regret standing up to me.”

Murmurs shifted through the rebels, whispers of concern and worry that they wouldn’t succeed - even though they’d already gotten this far.

Katniss felt Peeta take a deep breath, his body shaking with the effort. “No, we won’t. If you’ve changed the rules by making yourself King, then so can we. We won’t let you do this!” 

“Go ahead and try and stop me, Mr Mellark,” Snow replied, his voice rising slightly. Katniss could see his hands grip the banister even tighter, the cords of his neck straining in anger.

“There’s power and strength in numbers, Snow,” Peeta countered forcefully, even through a grimace as he rested too much weight on his injured leg. He waved an arm behind him, towards the group of rebels. “You can’t control us forever!”

“I can and I will!” the man yelled back. It was the first time Katniss had ever heard him raise his voice from the smooth, modular tones he’d perfected, and she was even more shocked when he whirled to face Haymitch, madness clear on his face. “I want to be more powerful than anything else in Panem!” Snow demanded. “No man, or group, will ever defeat me! That’s my third wish, genie. Grant it.”

Katniss heard the murmurs rise again, as whispers of _genie_ and _what the hell_ abounded through the hall.

Haymitch stared at Snow, lazy eyes the colour of smoke. “More powerful, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Than anything else in Panem?”

“Yes! Are you deaf as well as stupid?!”

“No, definitely not,” Haymitch replied, and Katniss could see the genies eyes slide towards them. Katniss watched as some kind of silent conversation passed between he and Peeta, before Peeta nodded firmly in approval. The genie winked in response, before a smirk tugged at his lips. “Your wish...is my command, King Snow.” He lifted his hands, pressed the fingertips together lightly. Sparks and shimmers of light began to emanate from his hands, swirls of purple and yellow and pink that encircled him and Snow, and soon danced their way through the group of rebels, who looked on in a mixture of shock, wonder and terror. “You want to hold more power than anything else in Panem? You got it.” With a final burst of light and smoke, Haymitch flung his hands towards Snow, engulfing the older man in a cloud of white. There was a short scream, a gurgled laugh and then nothing.

Tendrils of smoke danced into the air as the cloud dissipated.

He was gone.

“Haymitch!” Katniss gasped. “What the hell?”

The genie’s grin grew wider as the shackles on his wrists snapped open, falling to the ground with a thunk. He wrung them gently before he took the three steps towards where Snow had been, bent over and picked an item up off the floor. Turning on his heel, he walked down the hall, held the item out to Katniss and Peeta. “He wanted to hold more power than anything else in Panem. And he got it.”

********

It didn’t take long for word to filter through the halls, out to the courtyards where more rebels waited, that Snow had been defeated. Questions arose, with many still confused as to exactly what had happened - Nolan, Aaran and Ethen led people outside, planning to explain as best they could. With the mass of people gone, Katniss guided Peeta slowly back down the hall to the study in peace, where she helped him into a chair. Peeta directed her where to find a first aid kit, and she cleaned and dressed the cut as well as she could - it stung, and made his eyes water, but he stuck through it.

Every time he looked down at the yellowed piece of parchment he clutched in his hand, it reminded him that it was worth it.

Finally, Katniss was done, and she slumped into the seat beside him, looked over at Haymitch.

“So let me get this straight. You turned Snow into a piece of paper. How is that even meeting his wish?”

Haymitch, in his place by the mahogany sideboard where he was eyeing off the assortment of glittering crystal glasses and decanters, scoffed. “Sweetheart, I made him into a scroll. There’s only one thing more powerful than the King in Panem, and that’s those damned scrolls. Of which he’s now one.”

Peeta studied her face as what Haymitch had done sunk in. It was slow, her mouth gradually dropping open, the realisation dawning in her eyes.

“What?”

“That’s right, sweetheart. And I believe…” he closed his eyes, and Peeta could see the eyelids twitching rapidly before they flicked open again. “I believe our beloved President Snow has become a scroll about horticulture practices in the Royal grounds.”

Katniss brow furrowed. “Horticulture?”

“He seemed to love roses,” Haymitch mused. “At least, that’s what I assumed from the thirty million vases of them he shoved around this bloody mansion in the last week. Smelt like a frigging perfume factory had exploded in here.”

“So...so what do we do with it...him...it?” Peeta asked, tapping the paper against his uninjured leg.

“I’ll tell you what we do with it,” Katniss started, snatching it out of his hand. “We burn it. Burn it to ashes. He can’t come back then, and we won’t have to worry about him.”

“I agree,” Haymitch said, dancing his fingers across the crystal, as though he was playing ‘eenie, meenie, minee, mo’. “Best thing we can do.”

They all fell silent as they considered the idea, before Peeta finally spoke up. “It really is our only option, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Katniss confirmed. She reached over, slipped her free hand into Peeta’s. “Do you mind if I do the honours?”she asked, and he shook his head. 

With a hand that only slightly trembled, Katniss reached out towards the flickering flames, dropped the scroll into the smouldering heap without a second thought. They watched as the flames leapt, as the fingers of red and yellow and gold curled over the paper, blackening it until it had all but curled in on itself.

And then it was done, gone, nothing but a smattering of black ashes on the carefully stacked wood.

“That...that’s it?” Peeta murmured. “It’s done? It’s all over?”

“Snow’s part is,” Haymitch confirmed, then flicked his eyes over to Katniss. “But her part isn’t. Now that his wishes are done, it reverts back to her. She gets her final wish.”

Katniss’ eyes widened as her hand gripped Peeta’s tightly, and he squeezed her fingers in response. “Really? I figured...I figured I lost it.”

Haymitch shook his head. “No, you still get it. But think about it carefully, sweetheart. You need to make sure whatever it is you wish for is something you can live with.” His fingers finally plucked at a decanter filled with a dark amber liquid. “But if you don’t mind, first I need a damned drink.”

********

The sun was setting on the Capitol as they gathered in the King’s study - the four Mellark men, Haymitch and Katniss. The crowds had dispersed, had gone home with the knowledge they’d defeated Snow and had stopped the re-introduction of the Games. Crane was in the custody of Boggs, who was currently retaining him in the never used cells in one of the underground levels, awaiting further instruction.

But Haymitch insisted that Katniss make her final wish before they did anything else like sentence Crane, or read the scrolls to the citizens.

No one said a word, simply watched as Katniss stared into the flames where they’d destroyed Snow only a few hours before. Her mind whirled, her heart ached and her stomach clenched as she came to her decision.

“You got your wish, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, almost immediately after she’d decided. She nodded, but didn’t shift her gaze. “A nod is great, but you’re gonna need to tell me.”

She nodded again. “Yeah.” Katniss glanced towards Peeta, then towards his father, before rising to her feet and taking a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“What is then, sweetheart? What’s my last task for you gonna be before I ship myself back to hanging out in Genie Land?”

Her hand reached up, twisted the end of her braid around her fingers. “I wish...I wish for Panem to go back to the way it was before Snow got his wishes. But...on the proviso that Snow can’t return.”

“What?!” Peeta’s exclamation was loud, and she grimaced as she turned to face him. He’d sat as upright as he could on the overstuffed chair he’d been resting in. “Katniss, you told me you don’t regret anything that happened! How can you take it all back?”

She crossed to him, lowered so that she was in a crouch and grasped his hand in hers. “Peeta, I promise I don’t regret it. But...you saw how confused those were that actually saw what happened - imagine trying to explain it to those who didn’t. A lot of them won’t understand, and they’ll probably question everything about it - even the scroll announcement.And I just think it will be easier. Those people injured downstairs won’t have been injured, Haymitch won’t have been captured, your leg...your leg will be fine. It will just go back to the way it was before that morning we all woke up and the world had changed.”

Peeta’s lips firmed into a straight line, his chin quivered. “But you know this means that I’ll be King, and that none of us will remember this, and that we can’t be together and-”

“I know,” Katniss said, swallowing heavily. “But it’s better this way. I’ve made my choice, Peeta. I want Haymitch to grant me this wish.” She reached up, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. It tasted bitter sweet, and hinted of goodbye before she pulled away again. “Don’t be sad. I’ll be there when you wake up, and we’ll all be none the wiser.”

She pivoted slightly on her foot, looked up at Haymitch. “Do your thing, Haymitch,” she told him quietly. “And thank you.”

He nodded, and smiled slightly. “Good choice, sweetheart. Your final wish is my command. And I guarantee you he can’t come back - back from the dead, and all that. That can’t be changed.” He winked, lowered his hands to his sides, his fingers spread wide. “And trust me, it’s been...a pleasure.” He stepped back slightly, a faint breeze ruffling at his hair as he closed his eyes. Tendrils of green and orange and silver swept around him, around Katniss, and Peeta, and his family, before the wind picked up, swirling the colours around them in a cloud, cold prickling on their skin as the wind grew wilder. 

Katniss looked at Peeta, saw his eyes were intently focused on her, and squeezed his hand.

And then it was dark.

********

“Katniss! Katniss, there’s an announcement on the screen! You have to come watch!”

Prim stood at the back door, shouting down the backyard to where Katniss sat on a small stool, milking Lady, their goat. She lifted a hand across her forehead, squinted in the bright sunlight. “Why have I got to watch it?”

“Because it’s Peeta!”

Katniss swallowed heavily, ran her hand down her face. She should have known this would happen. Of course it would. His mother had warned her that she would see to it that Peeta was engaged to someone suitable as soon as possible.

This would surely be that announcement.

With a sigh, she drew herself to her feet, made her way inside the house that straddled the divide between the town and the seam, and thought back to those days that followed the Gala back in the Capitol.

She and Peeta had stayed up late, curled around each other, sharing secrets and wishing desperately that things could be different for them. And then the next morning, her door had been broken down, his mother had marched in, and in no uncertain terms ordered Peeta to return to his room. Her bags had been packed for her while Queen Deliah had told her she was a bad influence on her youngest son, and if she had anything to do with it, he would never see her again. Within an hour she’d been on the public train back to Twelve, her pride dented and her heart already miles behind her.

They hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

It took another hour before she’d reached into her bag, before her fingers had brushed across the envelope tucked into the side. Curiously, she’d slipped the creamy piece of paper out, studied the scratchy writing that was scrawled across it.

_Katniss -_

_In your sleep, you whispered your next wish. Normally I don’t like when this happens, because the person wishes for something stupid, like an elephant or some shit. But at least in sleep, you still have your head on your shoulders._

_When you return to Twelve, you’ll find yourself a new home. It’s a small house, but new, and suitable for yourself and your family. It’s on the edge of the Seam, a little closer to town. A gift from the King for the new official healer in Twelve. The trim is orange - trust me, you won’t miss it._

_It was a pleasure being your genie, your mentor, whatever you want to call it. Good luck._

_Haymitch._

_P.S. No need to worry about Snow anymore. I took care of the bastard._

Katniss had re-read the note a dozen times, trying to remember making a wish. While she had, at one time, considered wishing for a new home and role for her mother, ultimately, she’d decided against it. She’d wanted to do the right thing by Peeta, who’d done so right by her.

By the time the Gala had been over, she’d wanted to release him from the dictations of the scrolls, and instead, in her sleep, she’d failed. Rather than him being able to avoid being King, he was now destined for it, like he’d always been.

The slim chance they’d had of being together was gone.

As the days had passed - as she got used to her new home, and watched as her mother reveled in her new, increased role in the District - she tried to forget about Peeta, about the few days they’d spent together in the Capitol. Tried to forget about the feeling of his lips on hers as they’d danced in the ballroom, tried to forget about running through the halls, the hours they’d spent talking, kissing, tentatively exploring - even that first time she’d laid eyes on him in District One. It was better that way, she told herself.

Except she was reminded of him everywhere. The front porch of her old house as she passed it to go to the Hawthornes, the town square, the meadow - and now her own sister had called her inside, wanting her to watch him on the screen.

She dropped onto the sofa in their lounge room, turned her attention to the screen. The King stood front and centre on the balcony of the mansion, Aaran flanking his left, Peeta and Ethen his right. Crowds of people filled the grounds in front of them, covering the gardens, the pathways - there were even people that had clambered up on the fountain that sat in the centre. Prim turned the sound up so the King’s voice reverberated around the room.

“Citizens of Panem, the past few weeks have been an interesting time for myself and my family. My son, Peeta, the future King of Panem, came to me with a proposal. A proposal that would change the course of Panem, change the course of history, and allow our country to move forward in a way that relies only on our own actions, choices and decisions.”

Katniss wished she was watching him, but her eyes were fixed firmly on Peeta, on the way he looked soberly out at the crowd. This speech was not going as she’d expected. Where was the engagement announcement? Where was the Queen?

“We, as a country, have been governed by the official scrolls for as long as Panem has been in existence. But it’s time for change. It’s time for us to take control. It’s time for us to take our lead not from these scrolls but from ourselves. Therefore, my loyal subjects, I am decreeing, from today, that the scrolls be destroyed and future decisions for Panem be made by the King, a group of advisors - and you. You - no matter what district you are from - will now become involved in the decision making of our country.”

The murmurs rippling through the crowd were of shock, of surprise, of confusion. But underlying it all was a sense of wonderment, of hope, of excitement. This time, a small smile tugged at the corner of Peeta’s mouth.

“In addition, my loyal subjects, I have an announcement to make in regards to my successor. I have had many discussions this week with my sons, with each of them expressing their desire to continue serving their country. However, we have determined that their skills and talents lie elsewhere to the roles they were given by the scrolls.” Gasps echoed, and the King waited until they’d died down before he continued. “From next week, Aaran, who you all know as our Envoy, will begin training to take over the reigns of overseeing our Military. Peeta, previously in line to succeed me, has requested to become the new Envoy of Panem. And Ethen, my oldest…”

Katniss didn’t hear the rest of the speech through the roaring of blood in her ears. Her eyes wide in shock, she stared at the screen blindly.

_Peeta wasn’t going to be King._

********

It was three hours later that the knock came at the door. With her mother and Prim out visiting a child with a broken arm, Katniss had no choice but to open it herself.

It was Peeta.

He stood there, in a simple blue shirt and black slacks, his hands in his pockets and a nervous smile on his face. His blond hair was disordered, as though he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and his blue eyes were piercing.

“Hey Katniss,” he greeted softly.

She opened her mouth to respond, found that the words wouldn’t come. Nothing that came to mind was sufficient, was eloquent enough, for what she needed to say. So instead, she practically threw herself into his arms, wrapped her own around him and pressed her lips to his.

A month of trying to forget him had been fruitless. Pointless.

His hands reached up, cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, as her hand gripped at the muscles in his his back. He tasted of oranges, and nerves and need, and she pressed herself closer to him, trying to lose the weeks they’d spent apart.

Whether it was minutes, or hours, that they kissed on her front porch, it didn’t matter. But eventually, she led him inside, where they sat, curled on the sofa, their legs entwined and their faces close together as Peeta explained everything that had happened since she’d been sent away.

How Snow had disappeared, and when investigating his disappearance, his quarters had been discovered to be full of plans and outlines of how to overthrow the King. How these plans explicitly stated the Queen’s involvement, how these plans included ways of trying - and failing - to forge alternate versions of the scrolls.

How, when it was all discovered, the Queen had been banished, Seneca Crane was sent to District Seven, and Peeta finally admitted to his father that he didn’t want to be king. And it didn’t take long for Ethen and Aaran to admit that they felt ill-suited to their roles as well.

Burned by his wife, and one his closest advisors, the King had been shaken, had been left disillusioned, and had agreed that change was needed, that the country couldn’t go on the way it was. It had been then that Peeta had suggested no longer using the scrolls, for the brothers to fill the roles they were really meant to fill. And while it had taken a few days to convince him that they didn’t need the scrolls, in the end, the King had realised it was the right thing to do.

He’d announced the press conference, had made the announcement, and the minute it was over, Peeta had been on the train to Twelve, to see her. To make up for lost time.

To tell her that he was open to date whomever he wanted to, now that he wasn’t going to be king. And that he wanted it to be her.

Katniss had no reason to disagree. And allowed Peeta to kiss her senseless.

********

_Occasionally, as the years passed, they’d have a moment of what felt like deja vu. A flicker of a memory - of people storming the mansion, of Peeta being injured, of Snow being transformed into a scroll. But it was quickly and easily dismissed as nothing but a remnant of a silly dream._

_Only Haymitch remembered. He remembered those three wishes, and the gift he’d bestowed upon Katniss and her family afterwards._

_And sometimes, as he joked with Finnick as they waited to be assigned their next wishee, or as he wandered Panem granting new wishes, he’d remember, take a sip from his flask and smile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being quite a bit longer than the others, mostly because I felt that everything that happened in this one needed to happen together. And while this story ended up deviating a little from my original plan and outline, I'm happier with how it ended up. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading, for your kudos and comments. 
> 
> With thanks to my usual suspects for all their help, encouragement and support xo


End file.
